The Clown Princess of Crime, a joker's daughter fanfic
by MetallicJester
Summary: Marceline Doe is what one might call, a normal girl. She enjoys her life in Baltimore, Maryland, living only with her mother. However, this is all flipped on its head when her mother is murdered in a robbery gone wrong, and she sound finds herself in Gotham City. When she discovers she's the daughter of the Joker, everything she knows is thrown out of the window.
1. a dark morning

_**Thump thump thump**_.

The sudden clanging woke me out of my deep sleep, and I groaned.

_**Thump bang thump**_.

I rolled into my side and gave a glance at my clock; 4:03 am, no wonder I was so groggy. It was most likely my dog, Badger, wanting to be let out to do what he does.

"Mommm, go let Badger outttt!" I whined, my voice screechy from not talking in a couple hours.

There was no response and I sighed, the banging still ongoing. I grumbled, the noise was too great for me to get back to sleep, and so I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sleepily chucked on a robe and a pair of fluffy baby blue slippers.

I opened my door, creeping along the hallway to my mothers room - cute and gently adorned, just like her. Albeit empty. The sheets were strewn about, a clear sign that she had gotten up in a hurry, as she always made the time to make the bed any other time.

"Well, she might have gone to attend to Badger," I thought, though the banging and the lack of a response from her was making my stomach turn.

I snuck back to my room and pulled out the pocket knife mom had bought for my eleventh birthday, in case I needed to protect myself. Not the usual present, but I cherished it, and kept it in my coat pocket at all times when I left the house.

Stuffing it in my pocket, my hand grasped tightly around the handle, I tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to let them creak too much under my pressure. I approached the downstairs door and turned the handle.

My breath caught in my throat.

_"M-mom_?" I breathed.

She was right there in front of me. Motionless. Light brown hair tangled and stained with dry blood. Her tan skin now pale and twinged with grey. Blue eyes wide open and staring at nothing. Her red satin pyjamas absorbed the blood, hardly a difference in colour where it splattered. One pupil dilated and one constricted - usually caused by extreme and sudden head trauma.

I took everything in, as little as I actually wanted to, and it was too much to bear. The room was spinning and I couldn't breath. There was a thumping in my head that just grew. And grew. And grew until I couldn't...

I didn't hear the thump as I fell to the floor.


	2. consciousness

I took a large gulp of air and sat up with a start. My skin was cold and I felt sweat run down my neck.

"Honey bun!" the familiar voice of my neighbour, Mrs Okeke filled my senses and I winced. I gently opened my eyes and squinted at the bright morning light flooding through the windows, but saw her sat beside me, with a look of concern on her face. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Wha-?" I murmured, looking around. "What's going on? Where's mom?"

I was sat in what looked like a medical room, on a hospital bed. Still wearing my pyjamas, robe and my slippers, but not in my own bed, I assumed I was in one of those anxiety dreams, like when you're naked in a public place.

There were two people on the other side of the room taking, dressed in black police uniform, with a badge on their arm that read "Baltimore Police". I frowned - why would I be in a police station?

Mrs Okeke looked down at the ground but grabbed my hands. "Do you remember what happened last night?" she asked, almost whispering.

There was nothing for a moment and then it all came flooding back - all of the blood framing my mother's face, that banging still echoing in my head. My heart dropped to the floor, and if it hadn't had been for me sitting on the bed, I would have fainted again. White blonde hair flopped in front of my eyes, and hid the burning tears that rolled down my cheeks.

It was quiet, and so I could hear the conversation of the two nearby police officers.

"Yeah, victim was a fourty-four year old woman, killed in a burglary gone wrong, poor broad."

"I saw the scans, nasty blow to the head. She must have died almost instantly."

"Ha, not before she took out a few of the robbers, slit two of their throats-"

"What kind of woman knows how to take out several men without taking more than ons hit?"

"A crazy one."

The two of them burst out laughing, and Mrs Okeke threw them a sharp glare and opened her mouth to shout obscenities.

Before the woman could do something she'd regret, the door to the room opened and a smartly dressed woman entered in a beige dress suit, and with her dark brown hair pulled back from her face.

"Ms Doe, you're finally awake." she chirped, smiling kindly, though it looked rather forced. "I'm Detective Ramirez, now if you'd like to come with me." She held open the door, and gave a motion with her hand.

Mrs Okeke frowned. "The poor girl has just come to, can this not happen some other time?"

Detective Ramirez's smile fell, and she exhaled slightly in annoyance. "I'm afraid this cannot wait, it's a matter of importance and if it isn't sorted out soon, it shall never be sorted. And I'm sure Ms Doe has questions."

I nodded and got up, though my legs were a little shaky and I nearly crashed to the floor. Steadying myself, I got up and walked toward the Detective, my neighbour following right behind me.

"Mrs Odeke, was it? I'd like to just talk to Ms Doe alone if that's alright." the detective said, sternly.

"Adanna Okeke." the woman corrected her, her jaw clenched. "And I'm a neighbour and a close friend of Marcie's mother, so I'd like to help how I can. Plus Marcie has just gone through something terrible and I'm sure she'd rather have someone familiar there, when she's surrounded by strange cops."

"Yes, but she's seventeen, I'm sure she can cope with being in an unfamiliar place for at least ten minutes." the Detective retorted. She led me through the doorway.

"Lord, give me strength." I heard Mrs Okeke mutter under her breath as the door closed behind me.

The Baltimore Police Department was an odd place, with cream painted walls, and posters that tried to deter people from shoplifting or graffitiing. Officers in black uniforms rushed up and down the corridors, nodding their heads in respect at Detective Ramirez. I felt very perculiar, shuffling through the halls of the police station in my fluffy blue slippers, surrounded by people that were so finely dressed.

The two of us entered what looked like an interrogation room, where all sort of happiness seemed to be sucked out of you. Grey walls, grey metal chairs sat around a grey metal table, that was bolted onto the floor. She sat on one side and I sat on the other, where I also faced a large mirror. I had heard enough of police dramas to know that it was a one way window, where other police officers or detectives could watch me as I was interrogated by Detective Ramirez.

She was no younger than thirty-five, and most likely had seen her share of children with dead parents, just like me. She already knew everything she was going to say before I even spoke, I could read in on her features.

"Now that we're properly alone, Ms Doe, can I call you Marcie? I-" she started.

"Only my friends call me Marcie, my name is Marceline." I replied, with no friendly or aggressive tone whatsoever.

"Marceline," she continued, unbothered. "I'd like to talk to you about what you saw last night. Please, start from the beginning."

I hesitated a little. "Well I don't really know, I woke up to banging, and I thought it was..." I trailed off. "Badger, is Badger alright? My dog?"

She sighed. "I'm afraid your dog suffered fatal stab wounds and was... dead when we arrived."

"Badger... I'm... I'm sorry." My eyes welled with tears and I couldn't see straight. "If I'd woken up sooner I could have saved you. You both." My throat went dry and my skin crawled as I remembered _her_.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Please continue in your own time." She handed me a box of tissues.

There was an stifling silence as I sniffled and took a tissue to wipe my eyes. "Well I came downstairs and saw her."

"Mrs Doe?"

I felt myself shake a little. "Yes. And that's all, I'm afraid."

"Did you see the perpetrators?" Ramirez body language was nothing but confident.

"No, should I have been more aware after I just saw my mother murdered? I passed out and I can't remember anything else." I muttered, a little more aggressively than I'd expected in my head.

She looked straight into my purple eyes with her tough brown ones. "Marceline, do you know anything about your mother's past?" She was deadly serious.

I looked down at my hands as I thought. "No, not really." There was a long pause. "I used to stay with my grandparents when I was young and when I asked them why she wasn't the one looking after me, they would say that she was in a rough spot. I always assumed that she was a drug addict, but after my grandparents died she took care of me full time. That's when we moved here to Maryland."

"And your grandparents? Where did they live?"

"Bensonhurst in Brooklyn. That's where mom grew up."

"So why didn't you stay closer to home?"

"Too many bad memories, mom always said, I never pestered her anymore than that. I ended up liking Baltimore more than I liked Bensonhurst, so I saw no problems." A small smile crept onto my face, as I remembered playing with the neighbourhood children in the streets.

"And your father - if you don't mind me asking?"

"Mom told me he died when I was young. But it doesn't matter because she always stood in for two parents. And when she was at work I would stay with Mr and Mrs Okeke as they were retired." I rested my head on my hand. "Anyway, what does this all have to do with my mother's death? I thought it was just a burglary gone bad?"

Ramirez scratched her head. "Well it was, and your mother's death didn't seem to be premeditated, but your mother, well she managed to take out three men who were much stronger than her, without taking a hit. The only hit she took was the one that killed her, and the perpetrator most likely snuck up on her."

"I overheard two officers talking about it, yes. Though I never knew she was capable of it."

"She was nearing fourty-five, so not exactly in the prime of life, so how could she be that capable?" It seemed like a rhetorical question, as she didn't wait for an answer. "Well I looked through her records to find some kind of martial arts or fighting awards, but found something that leads to even more questions." She leaned forward across the table. "Seven years ago, there was absolutely no record of a Mrs Jude Doe. No medical records, no birth or marriage certificates, no birth certificate for you actually."

I scrunched up my features. "My grandparents died in a car crash seven years ago, maybe it has something to do with her taking me in."

"See there's a thing too, no record of your grandparents death. Which leads me to the conclusion that your mother was using an alias, and she was either in trouble with the law, or some bad people. Did she ever show any signs of trouble?"

I scoffed. "No, of course not, she's a lovely mother, I don't know why anyone would want to hurt her." I paused. "She _was_ a good mother."

I felt my face flush red, and suddenly I couldn't breathe and the room was too hot. My tears filled up again, and I wrung my hands. "Can I get some fresh air outside? I need time to clear my head."

Ramirez nodded, gesturing to the door without much of a look toward me. "Take as long as you need."

I shuffled out of the door, and shuffled past the groups of officers, as I headed for what looked like the back door. Slamming it behind me, I slumped one shoulder against the wall, and let the cold air bite my skin as tears spilled down my face.

"Mommy, why it did have to be you? Why couldn't they have taken me?" I whimpered, pushing my white hair back from my face. "Mommy, I miss you so much." The last few words were incomprehensible over my sobbing and strangled voice.

I sat there for a couple minutes, the tears seemingly endless. The back door opened, and a dark skinned male officer stepped out, in the same black uniform I had seen all morning. He had had hat pulled quite far down, as if to hide something, and when I glanced at him, I noticed a scar on his cheek, almost in the shape of a J. His dark brown eyes were deeply shadowed.

"Marceline Doe?" he asked, his voice husky, like a smoker.

I looked at him puzzled. "Yes?" I replied.

A bag was suddenly thrust over my head and someone grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream but a hand was clasped over my mouth, and my hands and arms held behind me. I felt the sting of a needle in my neck.

Soon enough I was getting numb again, and had it not been for the black mask, it would have all gone dark once again.


	3. a crude awakening

"Chuck, I'm telling you, just get Gina some nice pearls - she won't even notice you've been gone."

"Ah shucks she ain't like that, Tiny, Gina can hold a grudge forever. She still remembers the time..."

The purring of the engine got quieter.

Louder.

"Can we stop off at 7 11? We've been driving forever."

"Geez, Chuck, we've only been driving two hours, and you ate just before, I can see how you got fat..."

Quieter.

When I came to it had stopped altogether. In fact it had been replaced with whirring, like that of a ventilation fan. It hurt my head, and I groaned, slouching over. At least I would have been able if I wasn't tied by my arms and ankles to a cold, metal chair. That damn bag was still over my head, and I definitely wasn't the first one to wear it, as I could smell.

"Hello?" I called out, in a sort of slur. Whatever they had injected me with to knock me out had messed me up a bit, and now I felt dizzy.

There was the sound of footsteps heading toward me and my breath caught in my throat. The bag was ripped off my head, whilst my eyes cringed as they tried to adjust to the strong artificial lights inside the room. When I could finally see, I made out the figures of a three men, one in front of me, and two beside me. They all had plain black shirts and black trousers on, though some had neon hair, and some looked straight out of some office job.

I recognised the one in front of me to be the sneaky guy in the police uniform I had seen just before I was knocked unconscious.

"Where am I?" I drawled, my head thumping with every word.

The sneaky guy groaned quietly in annoyance. "Chuck, you deadass gave her too much ket, what's boss gonna say when he sees the girl all sick and shit?" he hissed at the guy to my right, the other one from the car.

"How else was I gonna knock her out for four hours? Chloroform? That don't even work like it do in the movies - I've tried it on a guy before." Chuck grumbled.

I furrowed my brow as much as I could. Why wouldn't they answer me? "Where am I?" I repeated again, with a slightly better grip on my voice.

The third guy sighed. "Tiny, just shut her up until the boss gets here will you? Like a gag, or some more knockout drugs, I don't care."

Tiny, the guy with the J scar on his cheek rolled his eyes, but took a gag from a nearby desk behind me. He came to my front to put it on, but I thrashed as much as I could against the restraints.

"You put that on me I swear to god, and I'll- I'll cut you up, I swear to you I'll cut you up!" I snarled, tucking my head in as far as I could from the man in front of me.

"I can tell she got that from her old man." Tiny laughed, as he persisted on stalking toward me.

I was confused why he would know my dad, who had been dead for like sixteen years, and I was sure that if I got out of these bonds, I would interrogate him about it.

"Tiny, my man, I'm sure that won't be necessary." a playful male voice commanded, the sound of a smile on his lips.

Tiny immediately withdrew from me, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. Albeit the trouble wasn't over so soon. The man that spoke drew closer, his footsteps hauntingly smooth, like a dancer tiptoeing across her stage. I inhaled his cologne first - Acqua di Giò, a woody scent I remember my first tutor had, a scent that rather comforted me as I was taken out of school in Brooklyn at 10 to be homeschooled in Baltimore.

Next I noticed his suit, byzantium blazer and pin straight trousers, immaculate without any creases. A mustard shirt topped off with a shamrock green waistcoat, and a colourful flower on his lapel.

His hair - vibrant green and greased back, like an old fashioned film star; bone white skin and a face that resembled said skin being stretched over a grinning skull, contorting as he moved his features.

He stepped fully into the light, but I already knew who it was - the Joker was someone that was discussed not just in Gotham where he resided, but in schools and homes across the US. Possibly outside the US too. He was the epitome of an unsolved mystery, and many of my professors had been eager to meet the man for themselves. However, the Joker went missing without a trace several years ago, after the earthquake that struck Gotham caused the government to seal off all entry and exits to the city, turning it into a No Mans Land. Last anyone had seen him was when he shot Commissioner Gordon's wife, until now of course.

I scrunched up my brow. "The Joker?" I asked, in confusion, rather to myself then anyone else.

He grinned. "Would you rather it was the Easter Bunny?" he replied, giggling through his words.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Where am I?" I rattled off, my anxiety levels rising by the second as I imagined how I could meet my end, right now in this dingy room full of criminals.

He sighed. "You're in Gotham, and you're perfectly safe. Which is an oxymoron if you ask me!" he chuckled.

I was convinced this was just one big dream, a nightmare, and that I was going to wake up and be in my house again, with my lovely mother who was most definitely alive, and that I could cry about how real it felt and how I missed her, as she combed my white hair with her fingers. Tears began welling up in my eyes and I whimpered, my lip quivering ever so slightly.

I bit down on it suddenly and furrowed my brow. "Maybe you can finally tell me what the hell is going on."

He raised a green eyebrow at my sudden mood change and the nerve I had to talk to him like that. I didn't really know what I was doing myself. "All of that will come in time... _Marceline_." He drew out my name on his tongue like he was testing it out.

"How do you know my name?" I choked, taken aback. I was basically a nobody with no family, what business did he have with me that needed him knowing my name?

He stood up straight, his movements very stage-like, as if I was an audience member. "Marceline... I. Am. Your. Father!" he announced, mimicking the scene from Star Wars. "Funny, I thought that would be way more dramatic in my head. Oh well." He finished with jazz hands, which really was the cherry on top of this fever dream I was currently living.

I paused, staring into his green eyes, my heart rate growing more erratic, as I tried to comprehend what he just said. My father? I never knew my father, and my mother never spoke a word of him apart from that he had a good sense of humour, and that he was dead. The Joker had a twisted sense of humour, but he probably thought he was funny, so it was entirely possible he could be my dad. But then of course why was I trying to reason with myself? There was no chance this psycho would have a baby with the kind soul that my mother was.

I burst out laughing. The noise rattled off the walls and the henchmen jumped a little bit at the sudden noise. Tears began to stream from my eyes and if I wasn't bound, I would have doubled over and grabbed my tummy. "Wow, that was a good one, you actually nearly had me there!" I retorted, grinning from ear to ear. "Though if you really wanted to convince me, you shouldn't have had me drugged as I was driven all the way to Gotham, and tied me to a chair."

He bent over, his hands on his knees so he could lean over me. "But doesn't that show dedication that I would have you brought over here? It shows how important my only child is to me?" he probed, his voice sweet like honey, and it kinda made me sick. That or it was the after effect of the ketamine they injected in me to knock me out.

"You're insane." I retorted, short and simple.

He looked back at me with no smile whatsoever, looking over my features as he stood up straight. "Boys, cut the ropes off her, would you?" he instructed, and they immediately pulled out their knives, slashing the bonds around my arms and my ankles, and letting me free. I massaged my wrists, trying to get the red marks off. "Marceline, come with me."

I stood up, my legs wobbling underneath me, and I was just glad to be walking about again - I was tired of all of this sitting. He was much taller than me, and walked with a long stride, so I almost had to jog to keep up with him. We walked in silence, until we came to the exit, and went through a door, which opened up into what looked like an old carnival grounds. There was a broken down Ferris wheel that stood tall amongst the other rides, with cart that were missing or had the doors graffitied over.

We paced across the grass, my slippers being the only protection against the broken glass strewn about on the ground from teenagers drinking here. The two of us were silent for a while and it really unnerved me, I was really here walking casually through an abandoned carnival with the Joker, who was thought to be dead.

"I was being serious, I hope you realise." he murmured at last.

I looked down at my feet. "I must be going mad, how can this be possible?" I breathed, laughing, but not amused as much bewildered. "This isn't something I'd ever imagine happening to me."

He grunted with a smile. "Never expect it myself really. When I heard six years ago-"

I spun on my heel. "You knew for six years and never did anything?"

He was taken aback a little as I glared at him.

"You left me and mom without any word and with the two of us thinking you were dead? When she had to get two jobs to support the two of us when we could have had another parent to help us out?"

He scratched his head. "Well, pumpkin, you see how I look, how would I possibly get a real jo-"

"Get some hair dye! Makeup! I don't know, and don't 'pumpkin' me, you've only known me for less than an hour, and you already think you can sweet talk me! That's it, ugh!" I yelled, storming off.

"Marcie!" He ran after me, grabbing my arm. "Just who do you think you're talking to?"

I seized my knife from my pocket of the gown I was still wearing, and rounded on him. "Only my mother calls me Marcie, and she's dead, because you weren't there to stop her getting murdered! So just... stay the hell away from me!"

I started bawling and I ran again once again, my slippers acting terribly as a protection against the ground. The shards of glass littered about cut into my feet, but I didn't notice.

My heart hurt too much.


	4. sunset

The sun began to set; tangerine orange beams of light moved across my very pale skin and they transitioned into shades of blue and silver.

I was sat on an immobile Twister ride and now that the sun was setting, the metal the seats were made of began cold, and stung the longer I sat. Albeit I didn't get up.

When I was seven, I remembered going to a passing carnival in Brooklyn with my grandparents, and my mother. I hardly saw her, so it really was a special occasion. She wore a white pencil skirt, and a cherry red blouse, with her bleached blonde hair tucked up like a 50s housewife. Grandpa hardly spoke to her that day, said he was disappointed in her, and so grandma had to take him home early and apologised on his behalf.

Then it was just me and mom for the first time in years, peering at the sights, and trying all the rides that I was comfortable with. We ended up going on a rollercoaster that mom hated and I adored, but she sucked it up so that I could go on three more times with her. That was the first time I'd ever seen her throw up.

Usually when I went to carnivals or amusement parks with my grandparents they'd only let me go on certain rides, and only a couple rounds on the stalls. However, when I was with my mother that day, she let me go on any ride any number of times, and even if I had lost four times in a row at the ring toss, she always bought me another round. Even to this day I still didn't understand why she had so much money that day, or why she spent so much of it willy nilly. Whenever I asked grandpa, he just said she was "mixed up in something you don't wanna be mixed up in".

I sighed. The two of us had been on this type of ride almost ten years ago, her giggling and me yelling my head off in joy. I remembered how people stared at us - a vintagely dressed woman and her albino daughter, whooping very loudly and not giving a care in the word.

_It was starting to get dark then. Jude sighed, fastening my coat and ruffling my short white hair._

_"It's been great today, mommy!" I exclaimed, grabbing onto her hands as she kissed my head._

_"I've had a lot of fun too, munchkin, though I ain't feeling too swell after 'The Mountain' back there." she laughed, jokingly holding her stomach._

_"I ain't feeling too swell," I imitated, holding my stomach too and giggling._

_She pointed at me, smiling. "Oi, don't be saying none of that round your grandpops, he don't like bad grammar." she scolded me, though playfully._

_The two of us laughed together, enjoying each other's company, until an alarm on Jude's watch went off. She sighed heavily._

_"Well, baby, I better be getting you back, your grandparents won't like you being out this late." She held her hand in mine, and I gazed up at her, my brow scrunching up. My eyes were large and pleading, and she looked away, distraught. "No ifs and buts, we gotta get back."_

_We walked together the short distance back, until we were stood outside my grandparents house. I noticed her hesitation as I began to walk up the steps to the door._

_"Don't you wanna come in, Mommy?"_

_She bit her lip and I could see that she couldn't come in, but I desperately wanted her to stay longer - this was the most fun I'd had in years._

_"I'm sorry, Marcie-baby, I really would like too it's just..." she trailed off and broke her gaze with me. "He don't really like it when I stay away too long, might start looking-"_

_She saw my puzzled look and recollected herself. "My boss, he don't like me taking time off work, so he might start looking for someone to take over my role." She nodded, assuring herself, and turning back to look at me. "And you don't want Mommy to get in trouble, do you?"_

_I shook my head, and she smiled, pinching my cheek._

_"Now you be a good girl and don't be up to nothing bad, your grandparents got enough to worry about."_

_"Will you be back soon?" I butted in._

_"Whenever I can, munchkin."_

_"Pinky promise?" I stood out my pinky finger._

_She smiled warmly, wrapping her finger around mine. "Pinky promise."_

_I held onto her for as long as I could, but soon she was pulling away, and turning away, as if the very sight of me would make her unable to leave._

_"I love you Mommy!" I called after her._

_"I love you too, Marcie!" _

_She didn't turn back to face me._

The next time she came to see me, it was months later on Christmas Day. My grandmother had spent most of the day trying to let me down, just in case my mom didn't show after all. She never said when she was turning up, she just knocked on the door, which she later said was because she was worried my grandfather would take me out, so the house would be empty when she got there.

I always told her that he wouldn't be that horrible, but honestly, considering she was his daughter, he certainly wasn't the nicest. Looking back, I reflected that maybe he disliked her so much because she had run off to pursue a relationship with the Joker, and dropped her job and dreams for him. That and she'd become the supercriminal Harley Quinn.

Nevertheless, she was kind and visited me on all of the key occasions, and just whenever she could, so maybe they should have sorted things out before something terrible happened. And something terrible did end up happening, but because dad and daughter were both very stubborn, they ended up on bad terms.

I felt a pang at my heart. Maybe I was being silly, just like mom. When I was younger I used to pretend my dad, who I thought was dead, was actually military, and that's why he was never around. I'd forge letters, and found a photo of some guy from the navy, which I printed out and carried around in my pocket all the time. Sure, I love my mom and being around her, but when it rolled along to father's day, or stores were selling 'gifts for _him_', I couldn't help but feel rejected. Not only that, but I couldn't tell anyone how I felt. If I spoke to my mom, she'd feel bad, and I couldn't talk to the kids in elementary school, or in my neighbourhood in Baltimore, because I desperately didn't want to be that girl without a dad.

Now I had finally been given a father, and I was willing to lose him by pushing him away. What was I thinking?

Then again, he had been absent for a massive amount of my childhood, and could I even trust him to stick around afterward? If I let him in, and he fucked me over, I might never trust people ever again; plus he was a murderer, he could damn well cut me up as some sort of joke. He was currently thought dead, so his come back would have to be really upping the stakes.

Killing your daughter is pretty up there on the stakes.

I sighed, pushing my white hair back in a stressed manner - I could be playing with my life here. But I wouldn't have to go through another father's day being miserable.

God, I hoped no one else would have to make a choice like mine.


	5. nighttime

It was fully dark now.

I could hear him as he approached, and so I tucked my knees up to my face, snivelling.

He stayed silent and I turned to look at the moon, which was rather large in the sky that night. At home I could never get to sleep easily, and so I used to sit on my windowsill, staring at the moon until I felt tired.

"So what happens now?" I asked him, not turning to face him.

He thought for a minute. "You can't go home as they'll just send you off to an orphanage, and you'll spend your last remaining years as a teenager moving from house to house. Never feeling settled." he answered, leaning on the ride I was still sitting on. "So I'm offering you a place here."

I didn't answered straight away and so he expanded upon it. "You can have your own room, and eat here, and pretend it's a normal home. I had some of my guys raid your apartment for any thing you might need, so I'm hoping there's every necessary for a girl like you."

I brewed over the words. "What happens if you get caught by the police, or even Batman? Am I left on my own?"

"As much as I hate her, maybe I could try to sort something out with Ivy. She has a daughter around your age, maybe you can chillax or something."

I giggled a little. "It's silly really, but not even being the Joker can make the word chillax sound cool." I laughed, and he chuckled too.

"I guess I'm a natural to this whole cringy dad thing." He smiled to himself and it almost gave me chills. Just how natural this all felt, when this man had a homicide count of over a hundred people.

"I'll stay here," I replied, suddenly. "For the meantime, I mean, I don't know how I'll like it yet."

I noticed him smile out of the corner of my eye, but then turned to face the ground.

I exhaled loudly. "But I hope you know that just because you offer me a home, it doesn't mean I'll dismiss all of those times you weren't there. Or that you're a murderer." I added on, my voice turning quite sharp. "The only reason I'm staying here is because I truly have no where and no one else to turn to. You can't just twist me around you finger and start making demands, because you-you've got no right. I-" My voice started to break down as i began to weep once again. He put a hand on my back but I curved out the way, and wiped my eyes. "All I wanted when I was younger was a whole family. All I ever got was chunks of a family. First I only had my grandparents, I lost them and only got my mother, lost her and now I only have you." I stared at the moon through my puffy eyes. "What a stack of cards I've been dealt."

Once again it was silent. I'm the distance I could hear the cars winding through the roads, still hectic even in the late hours in Gotham.

"Why didn't you come to find me earlier?" I asked, calmly.

He took a long pause, as if to think of the right words. "It may sound peculiar, but I was... afraid... no, unsure of what I would do. And the longer it went on, and the longer I saw you grow up, and how well you seemed to be turning out, the less I wanted to go see you. You were doing well without me, and I was doing well without you."

I turned to look at him. "Yeah you really don't need me around, do you?" I replied, slightly bitter at his choice of words.

He sighed. "I meant that being a parent is a big responsibility, and that at the time I wouldn't have been a good parent." he tried to say, and buried his head in his hands. "Harley was always the better one with children."

I looked at him, confused, and he continued. "Harleen was your mother's real name. Please don't say that you honestly thought 'Jude Doe' was her real name."

I thought. "I just thought it was a coincidence that it was similar to Jane Doe."

"She never did have much imagination." he added, sighing.

We both shared a look and then burst out laughing.

"Does that mean I'm not actually a Doe?" I asked, after we had both calmed down.

He raised his shoulders. "You were born with that name so really you could keep it as Doe. Harley's side of the family were Quinzels, so you could take that. Me? I can't remember who I was, so I can't help you there, but technically you would have taken my last name."

I combed a hand through my hair. "I like Quinzel, it just has a zing to it, that Doe never had."

At that moment I let out a big yawn, and covered my mouth, feeling a little embarrassed.

He laughed. "Come on, I'll show you to your room, toots."

He walked through several winding and rather confusing corridors, including a hall of mirrors until we met the door to my room.

"This is your stop. There should be some clothes and stuff the boys managed to find in your old home, so just decorate it how you like. Sorry if some parts feel out of date, it's just... well I didn't really know what to do for a seventeen year old girl. I hope-"

"Don't worry about it. In the morning, I'll get dressed and then I'll meet you at the kitchen, is that alright?" I replied, quite chipper.

He nodded, and I could tell he was way out of his comfort zone. On the recordings of him from the news he looked prepared, and confidently went about his scheme, nothing ever throwing him off kilter. However, I was his first child, and first daughter, and there was no amount of researching that could prepare you for that.

I entered my room, the door closing behind me, and I almost staggered. The walls were painted light pink and purple, with pastel bunting that read MARCELINE. My bed was a four post structure, with white sheets and pillows, and pink lace that draped from the top of the posts. The colour palette really did embody 'little girl'. I cringed, but I had to give him some slack, I kinda like the colour purple, so I wouldn't cry everytime I looked at the walls.

I sat down on my pearly white bed, it bouncing under my weight, and gazed at the tens of plush toys scattered around the room. They were mostly for a little girl, such as Hello Kitty and My Little Pony plushies, and I frowned. It finally came to my realisation that everything may have been themed for a little girl, because dad had meant for me to move in when I was a little girl, and he just hadn't adjusted it that much. My heart hurt as my eyes wandered over to a framed picture, which was of a drawing I'd done of me and my mom when I was much younger. In the same stickman fashion, the Joker had drawn himself at the side of the paper, not close, just observing us from afar.

I started to tear up, and I stroked the pad of my finger down the glass of the picture frame. "I really wish you could be here, mom. We could be a little family... like I always wanted." I murmured, my bottom lip shaking and pouting.

I started to break down again. Sobbing into my hands, and crippling over, I thought of nothing but her. Her beautiful smile. Her kooky way of going about things. Her sigh as she got through the door after work. Her dead body.

_I raced through the house, jumping over the coffee table and landing on the floor with a thump. Quickly, I turned on the TV._

_"Marcie! You better not be jumping about!" I heard her call from the kitchen. "You'll give yourself bruises!"_

_I giggled. "Don't worry mom, ninjas don't get bruises!" I replied, not removing my eyes from the TV._

_**Shinobi six**__, my favourite show that was on almost every day to my joy. My mom was probably sick of it, but she hid it well, and never stopped me watching it when it came on each evening._

_"Six idols to save the world!" I sang, knowing every word to the intro._

_Footsteps sounded as my mother came in from the kitchen, and came in to watch me watch the TV._

_I heard the hmph as she smiled. "You having fun there, puddin?" she asked, gently, standing over me._

_I whipped around. "You betcha! I can't wait to find some other kids here that watch Shinobi Six!" I exclaimed, my face red from being so happy._

_She laughed looking at me, with my red face, my short white hair stuck up in mad curls, and a cheesy grin on my lips. Leaning down, she kissed me on the top of the head._

_"So what's the plot for tod-" she started as she sat down, however she placed her weight on the TV remote which she didn't realise was beneath her._

_The channel changed onto some sort of crime channel, where they usually talked about famous criminals, the most common being Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. Nevertheless, tonight they seemed to be doing a special on famous criminals from Gotham, a very dangerous city, which my grandparents had warned me never to go._

_I expected her to immediately change the channel back, albeit she didn't, and just sat there with her eyes glued to the screen, and her jaw hanging loose._

_"-though Oswald Cobblepot has yet to really renew himself, he seems to be on the straight and narrow by running his elitist club, which is known only by The Iceberg Lounge. Moving on, we come to the man I know you viewers have been waiting for."_

_A mugshot of a man with green hair and bleached white skin appeared. He had angular features, that were rather bruised, most like the Batman's doing. His purple eyes glared like a predator at the camera, as if he was about to strike at the people watching the TV themselves. _

_"The Joker has over thirty life sentences to his name, and has killed over three hundred people! Or should I say had, as he has been missing for over a year now, and after Gotham was quarantined, a lot of fans are speculating that he died in that hellhole."_

_"Mom?" I spoke, watching her as she froze, her eye twitching a little, her hand still fixed around the remote. Why was she so transfixed by this programme? Yes the Joker was a bad man, but as far as I knew, my mom knew almost nothing about him._

_She snapped back to reality, changing the channel back to Shinobi Six, and striding out of the room. I should have gone back to watching it, but suddenly I wasn't that interested anymore._


	6. tough cookie

I'd cried myself to sleep that night.

Being what my mom called, a tough cookie, I never really cried unless I needed to. I cried when one of the boys in Brooklyn kicked over my snowman when I was seven, and that was the only exception. What can I say, I loved my snowman.

I only cried once when my grandparents died, and that was at the funeral. The other times I was just numb, and part of it was that me and my mom moved a short while after, and I had to suck it up so I could help her sort out our new home. So it was a really shock that I'd cried so many times since my mother had died a couple days ago, when my mom had been there for me less than my grandparents.

But nevertheless, being a tough cookie, I wasn't going to let it stop me any further.

It was strange to wake up in that bedroom, pink and purple attacking my senses, fluffy toys everywhere I turned. Back in my home in Baltimore, my bedroom was quite simple, with plain white walls, and nothing more than a few photos of celebrities covering them. I cringed a little, but after a moment or so I remember where I was, and swung myself out of bed.

When I emerged from my bedroom that morning, I wore a purple Scooby Doo shirt, and a pair of my dyed green mom jeans.

I stumbled through the hall of mirrors and through several hallways, getting lost many a time. All of the corridors seemed to look the same and so I took notes of things that differentiated them, such as the pictures on the walls, and the scratches on the doors. Why did this place have to be so complicated anyway? I could tell it was a carnival building that was altered for accommodation - or maybe the other way around - but it didn't have to resemble a maze this much. After so long I heard voices.

"Morning, Tony!" one said.

Another grumbled. "I ain't talking to you." he retorted in a thick Italian-American accent, followed by a few other henchmen sounding their excitement with a "ooooh".

The first laughed. "And why would that be? Because I won fair and square?" he teased.

The was the sound of chairs squeaking, as I assumed Tony squared up to the guy hackling him. "You cheated and you know it! I needed that money for tobacco and you snatched it from me you little sonnuvabitch!" he growled, getting progressively louder.

"Well you should have played better, eh?" the first guy sniggered, before he gave a squeal of fear as Tony jumped on him.

Fists collided with skulls, making a dull thumping noise, and the voices of the henchmen jeered and yelled, either trying to stop the fight, or cheer the men on. I approached the door where the noise echoed from, slowly opening it, and standing in the doorway. The room seemed to be a kitchen, with metal cabinets and ovens. A perfect place to prepare food, though instead of being clean and ready to prepare, it was dusty and covered with blood. In front of me I saw two men, brawling on the floor, one clearly winning as he sat on the other guy and smashed the other's head into the tile floor. It was clearly the latter's blood on the cabinets. All eyes were on the men fighting, but as the doors creaked as they opened, a few turned to look at me.

"Ey Tony! Brian! Break it up man, it's rude to fit in front of a lady!" one yelled, trying to pull the two apart.

Tony scoffed. "Whaddya mean, there's no-" he started, before he turned around to see me. He immediately jumped off Brian, and dusted himself off. He had a cut lip, but was altogether in a much better state compared to Brian, who had a swollen eye, a busted nose and a large red mark on his jaw.

"Sorry, miss." the one who broke up the fight apologised, and I nodded my head in understanding.

"I'll forget what I saw if you can point me in the direction of the Joker." I spoke, my voice very soft compared to the gruff voices of the henchmen.

One of them stood forward. "He said for me to bring you to the lounge once you were ready." he replied, gesturing for me to follow him.

He was an older man, with kind eyes and a sloping brow. If I looked close enough I could notice the specks of white face paint, which he hadn't scrubbed enough to get off. There was also the same J scar on his neck, which I had notice on almost all of the henchmen. It must be a way for them to be initiated into the gang, and to make sure they don't run off to other gangs. I heard that henchmen that tried to dip on their former bosses and work for someone else, had a hitman hired to take them out. Other bosses would see the J and know not to accept that henchman into their gang, as only death would follow.

The two of us walked through a door and finally I found myself in a sort of open lounge area, with a bar haphazardly shoved in the corner. Most of the henchmen had been watching the fight in the last room, and so it was mostly empty, with only two men sat around the bar.

I noticed his green hair from across the room.

The man led me over to the sofas covered in plastic wrap, which usually only occurred when one was moving, and wanted to preserve the furniture. My already dressed father sat on one, and had one knee crossed over the other.

"Marceline!" he exclaimed moderately as I sat on the chair opposite him. "Albert, you can leave now."

The man who escorted me gave a small nod and left us without a word.

He clasped his hand together and leaned on them. "Now, Marceline, I'd like to talk about something serious," he started, a lock of hair falling over his face. He quickly produced a comb from his pocket and smoothed it back. "Now, I've planned your mother's funeral, I've talked with a few of the people that want to attend and it's been set for Monday, which is two days from now."

My face creased up and I winced a little at the thought of my mother in a casket.

"I've sent a couple of my boys to retrieve her body from the morgue, the casket is already prepared of course." he explained, his face blank. He went back to grinning. "All we need now is the clothes."

I gave a small smile. "I couldn't imagine you in a black suit." I commented, my voice slightly sad, but still soft.

His grin faltered. "Well you won't have to - I'm not going."

I shot a hard look at him. "You're not going to your own baby mother's funeral? What kind of psych-"

His face hardened. "I'm not arguing with you - I've got a reputation as a dead man to uphold. You on the other hand are a free agent, and I'm not stopping you from going, isn't that the main point?"

I gritted my teeth, but didn't push it further.

"Anyway you need a good black dress to wear to the funeral, as as far as I could see, you don't own anything of the sort." he continued. "So I'm sending you out with one of the guys to get something in town."

"Russell!" he called, and one of the men by the bar came over. He was tall, wide and looked like he could handle himself. He didn't have a visible J scar. "Russell, I want you to drive Marceline into town and let her pick out something nice for Monday."

Russell grunted, and the two began to head out.

"Oh and Marceline?" he added, and I turned back around. "Take this phone just in case." He threw me the flip phone which I caught, and pocketed.

"Hopefully you won't need it."


	7. new dress

We drove through Gotham silently and I sighed. I was pretty sick of sitting in silence and going from place to place, with no real control. Whether it was passing out and finding myself somewhere else, or being straight up kidnapped, the gag was getting old fast. It had just been revealed to me that I was the Joker's daughter, shouldn't I have a bit more say in things that happened to me?

I fiddled with the radio, trying to get anything to play, but I couldn't.

"Doesn't work." Russel spoke.

I rolled my eyes. "I caught that, thank you." I murmured in reply.

It was a grey day, as it always was in Gotham; no sign of rain, yet no sign of sun.

The weather and atmosphere was something I was still getting used to here. In Baltimore it rained and snowed quite a lot, but there was also quite a lot of sun and heat when it came time for it. Here in Gotham the sun hardly seemed to penetrate the constant clouds smothering the skies, and so it was the same for every season. At least I'd heard it snowed in Winter, which was more than Baltimore could say. Maybe I'd be able to make a snowman or snow-angels with my new dad. Or snow-Jokers, heheh.

Soon enough we passed over the bridge and were pulling into Midtown Gotham, mostly importantly the Upper East. The rich part of Gotham, it seemed. The driver parked quite neatly for a criminal, and I hopped out the car, looking up at the names of the stores; some were ones I'd seen in Brooklyn when I was younger, ones I remembered pushing my nose against the glass of, and begging my grandma to get me something. Of course she never did.

I entered a store called Mystique; immediately I was hit with the scents of several perfumes, a lot of which didn't go together. Music from the top of the charts boomed just slightly too loud over the speakers, and I cringed. Nevertheless I continued further into the shop, looking for dresses.

The retail assistants were similar to the ones I remembered from Brooklyn - all fake smiles and thick makeup. A few tried to approach me, probably worried that as I was a teenager seemingly on my own, that I was going to shoplift. I ignored them, continuing further up until I found the dresses. Looking through the racks, I grabbed one, seeing it was in my size. I didn't bother trying it on, as I didn't want Russell waiting around for me.

I returned to the tills, and placed down the dress. The cashier was a heavily done up woman, with teased and bumped hair, and a New Jersey accent. She chomped loudly on her gum. Her name tag read Sydney.

Sydney took my dress, scanning it through the till, and placed it back down on the loading area between us. "That'll be-" she started, before looking at me. "Oy, you look like that girl off the news I saw this morning!" She was laughing, but my stomach lurched. Russell was standing beside me with the money ready, but him and I shared a nervous look. "Mary Doe? The missing girl?"

I fake laughed along. "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong girl..." I replied, trailing off.

"Kristen!" Sydney called, turning around. "Come look at this girl, don't she look like that missing-"

I bit my lip, and made a grab for the dress, deciding to run for it - I couldn't risk this striking resemblance to the "missing girl" turning into them realising I actually was her. It took Sydney a moment to realise, but by that time I was sprinting out of the door. The alarms went off and the security guard began to chase me but I didn't care, my feet hitting the ground hard, pummelling me along the street. Russell's car was parked outside the shop still, but from the sounds of things he was still in the store and I wouldn't be getting myself anywhere by hopping in the car.

I still had the phone on me, if I could lose the guard and I could call my dad and he could get me back home. Home, it really wasn't home, more like a middle that definitely wasn't comparable to my home in Baltimore, but certainly better than the streets.

The guard was getting worn out now, I could hear his panting getting heavier, and his footsteps less frequent. I smirked.

Rounding a corner I headed for an alley, and kept the same speed as I dashed around bend and small turns, hoping to confuse him and hopefully lose him. When I was sure he had slowed down to gather his bearings, I climbed up a series of ladders, until I reached a rooftop. An empty rooftop.

I collapsed on the ground and hid behind a small wall. Panting rather hard and grinning like a loon, I flipped out my phone and dialled the one and only contact.

"Marceline." my father's voice replied.

"Had to... run, need... help on roof...top." I stumbled, deep breathing in between so many words.

There was a pause. "I've got a tracker on the phone, I'll get someone to get you out of there." he replied, hanging up.

My eyes grew wide, and I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, still rather winded. "Gotta deal until he gets here, okay." I thought, though I remembered it taking around ten minutes to get here from the hideout.

And there was a creaking coming from the ladder.

My breathing hitched, and my gut dropped to my knees as I saw it was a police officer. "So you said you saw her come up here?" she asked to a woman down on the street.

"Yes! She had a dress with her and everything." the woman replied, and I gulped.

"Hey!" The police officer exclaimed, finally spotting me, and I was up on my feet again, now sprinting through the door that lead to the roof.

I practically threw myself down the stairs that followed, and used my shoulder to smack open the door at the bottom of them. It opened up into a kitchen sort of area, and I raced through it, sliding across cabinets and pushing past chefs. They yelled obscenities after me, but were soon pushed aside again by the police officer.

I felt the lactic acid building up in my side and wanted to cripple over but I couldn't, just having to push on and on. I pushed past waiters and burst threw the double doors which opened up into the main restaurant area. I dodged past tables, my feet now burning through my trainers. People were right behind me now, I could feel they were simply a hair too far away, and I panicked, making a quick turn and watching as one waiter got caught on the carpet and toppled into a few of the others. The police officer was unscathed, and I was clear she was the polar opposite of the lazy, donut loving stereotype of the police. She had her years of police training and was possibly more fit that I was, but I had my rush of adrenaline that I was sure if I didn't stop and get to safety soon, I was going to have a heart attack.

Finally I came to the front doors and burst through them. A car strafed straight in front of me, opening the doors, and I didn't have enough time to stop, instead crashing inside the car. The doors slammed close and the car sped off, the police officer swearing at herself behind it.

The car held two men, dressed in smart black clothes and no trace of hair dye or face paint. I worried for a second I might have jumped in the wrong car.

"Don't worry, we were sent by your dad." Tony assured me, and I burst out laughing, whilst simultaneously trying to refill my lungs.

I cackled, hugging my new dress to my chest, and trying to organise everything that just happened. "That was... awesome!"

The one in the passages seat scoffed. "If you think that's good, then you'd love our job." he replied, though it was lighthearted

I laughed. "I couldn't do your guys job, I nearly got caught there! Oh but that makes it so much better... is it weird I wanna do the whole thing again?"

"Not at all, it's the rush you want." he answered. "When I was your age I was gunning for a job just so I could feel the rush. And you might be luckier than me, because who knows, maybe your daddy might give you something special to do in the gang. When you're old enough, of course."

I smiled at the prospect of something I'd never thought of before - helping out my dad with his jobs. I'd be a criminal, but something evil kind of... drew me to it.

"I think I'd like that." I started, playing with my hair. "I think I'd like that a lot."


	8. sparring

"Marceline!" my father exclaimed, as I entered the room, followed by the two men from the car. He approached me, pinching my cheek and grinning. "Glad to see you're okay."

I beamed back at him. "It was a little scary being chased by an officer of the law, but overall, that was the most alive I've ever felt in my life!"

"That's my girl!" he chuckled, ruffling my hair. "Now then, let us continue with the plans."

Russell slammed through the doors, panting. "Boss, I-"

Before he could finish there was a bang, and I turned to see the Joker with a smoking gun, and the bullet imbedded in Russell's skull. He slumped over, the force of it knocking him backwards and smacking against the wooden door.

"Blood on my nice, new walls, what a shame." my dad replied, nonchalantly, and blowing off his gun.

I shook at the sudden noise and stood in shock, staring at nothing but Russell's now lifeless body. Of course I'd seen a real dead body, but I'd never seen someone die. And it didn't really sit well with me. It also didn't sit well with me that my own father was unbothered and ordered one of the also unbothered henchmen to make him a cup of coffee. I knew he was a psychopath but I didn't realise he was at this level. Completely no signs of empathy, not even for a split second, just plain annoyance and then he moved on, as one would be when crushing an insect.

"Do you want any coffee?" he asked, and I snapped back to reality. I immediately closed my agape mouth.

"No-no thank you." I stuttered, struggling to swallow with my dry throat.

The goons went off to retrieve a coffee pot from the kitchen, and my father turned back around to look at me. He noticed my nerves look straight away, and raised an eyebrow.

"Why did you do you it?" I murmured.

"He couldn't protect even a teenage girl, the simplest of jobs. What other use would he be?" he replied, simply.

I shrugged, looking at the floor. "I turned out alright, didn't I? And they didn't recognise me, I don't think." I replied.

"But what if you'd messed up somewhere along the line and gotten caught? What if they'd actually recognised you as the missing girl, and you'd gotten a ride straight back to Maryland? I couldn't have been able to get to you again - they'd have you on witness protection or something." he rambled. "Or what if someone had got to you on your own on the street? You're just a little girl, artificial strength or not..."

"Artificial strength?" I inquired, tilting my head.

"Ivy gave your mother a shot of some plant serum that increased her strength and agility, I'm assuming you've inherited a little of that."

"I get your point." I muttered.

A grin lit up his face. "Which is why I want to train you how to take care of yourself. It won't be straight away, but you'll be better off doing it."

My eyes widened. "You'll teach me how to fight?"

"Of course, now are you ready to get started?"

I pushed my hair back, biting my lip. "Okay, you'll go easy won't you?"

He laughed, and the two of us began to walk out of the door.

"Of course I'll go easy on you."

—

"Left jab, right jab, left, under!" he yelled, and I desperately tried to get a hit in.

He stood there, taking all of my hits without flinching, and it was quite discouraging to see I wasn't even damaging him. Sweat dropped from my face onto my shirt, and I was breathing heavily.

"Left, left, left!" he commanded, and I grew weaker with every punch. "Keep your guard up!"

I put my hand up to signal time out, and curled over, panting and wiping my face. He didn't take note of it, and sent a kick right to my gut, knocking me to the ground. I clutched my stomach and looked at him with horror.

"I was in time out!" I snapped, my face red with both fatigue and rage.

He leaned over me. "Do you think a person that's attacking you will let you have your little 'time out?'" he asked, though it was definitely rhetorical, as he answered it himself before I could respond. "Of course not. It may seem like I'm being rough on you, but I'm being realistic."

"You said you'd go easy on me." I grumbled.

He grinned. "If I wanted to go tough on you, then we'd be fighting with loaded weapons." he retaliated.

I quickly hopped to my feet and jumped away before he could land another kick. "You really are insane!" I spat, dodging him and landing a solid blow to his head.

He staggered, but recovered and got back to throwing punches, me getting out the way of some, and blocking the others. "I saw that award you won for mixed martial arts in the local Baltimore news - so I know you can do better than that."

I jumped into a front roll to evade him. "I quit that years ago, what makes you think I'm still good at that stuff?"

He scoffed. "You don't forget something as memorable as fighting, Marceline. It's an animal instinct to fight." He rushed me and I fell on my butt on the ground. Sending blow after blow, he wailed on me, and I was about to give up and cry, just as I realised that he probably wouldn't even stopped if I cried. He was only going to stop if I kicked the ever-loving shit right back out of him.

My foot came up to mean his face, the ball colliding with his jaw, and knocking him backward. With this he finally released me and I flipped backwards onto my feet - something I remember my mom teaching me - and pounced on him, my kicks and punches landing one after another. Laughing like it was nothing, he got up, holding his jaw, just as I sent a roundhouse kick right into his neck. This was finally enough to push him back, and I stood there panting as I stared at him on the floor.

He stared right back at me, out of breath. His face was blank, but mine soon cracked with a cheesy, lightheaded smile.

"That was fun." I finally spoke, a touch of humour in my voice.

The Joker sat there, looking slightly delirious, but began to laugh a throaty chuckle, curling over and laughing into his hand whilst the other clutches his bruised jaw. I grabbed his arm, helping him up, and he punched my arm playfully, albeit it hurt.

"I knew I'd birth a real slugger!" he laughed, and I giggled too. Maybe I was also delirious.

I laughed, lightly. "I need a lie down."


	9. the funeral

It was finally the day.

The Joker has stayed at the hideout to work, but had gotten one of the henchmen to drop me off at the venue that the funeral was going to occur at. The door was slammed behind me, and I stood there awkwardly, looking for anyone whilst the car pulled away.

I fanned myself with my hand - it was a nice day for Winter, but this black long sleeved dress was attracting the heat quite a bit. That and I was slathered in suncream to protect my very fragile skin against the sun, which kind of made me uncomfortable. Weren't funerals usually on dreary, rainy days? Why was it today, when I had enough to deal with, did I have to deal with the sun of all things?

I was in a cemetery, surrounded by hundreds of graves, and lush, tall, green trees. Birds chirped and I smiled to myself, I was always told Gotham was dull and cold, but the cemetery seemed so nice. What an oxymoron.

A crematorium was the only building I could see, and so I headed toward it. It was a small grey structure, with stone statues of weeping figures adorning the walls; ivy crept around each orifice, so in places it looked like it was painted green. The door was large and wooden, and I was about to push it open, when the whirring of an engine sounded, and a large black car pulled into where the henchman has dropped me off. I stood with my back to the crematorium, and watched as the whirring died down. A door opened and a pair of legs slipped out of it; black pantyhose and tall black high heels.

The woman who they belonged to wore a long black dress with black gloves, and adjusted the large black hat on top of her butt-length red hair. Dark shades hid most of her face, apart from her lips that were topped with dark red lipstick. She had natural grace, and my eyes widened as she stood up.

A second woman exited the car along side her, with just as long legs, and a sleek black dress. She had curly coppery hair, and a tanned face covered in freckles.

She sighed, patting down her dress. "Was a dress really necessary? Geesh I wish I'd just worn some jeans, I think I'm getting a wedg-" she started, looking rather uncomfortable.

The first woman slapped her lightly on the arm. "Violet, can you please just act like a lady for at least a day?" she sighed, adjusting her glasses.

"Sorry, mom." the other replied, holding back laughter by covering her mouth.

"Are you here for the funeral?" I asked, as they headed toward me.

The older one ignored me, walking around me and through the door of the crematorium. I flushed red at her just blanking me, but the younger one gave me a friendly smile.

"Yes, the woman who died was a friend of my mom's and so I'm here to offer support. I'm sad to say I didn't really know her, though." she answered, looking around. "Hey are you on your own?"

I sighed. "Yeah, my dad left me here. He's got a lot of work to do, you see." I replied, my voice a little shaky. I was usually good at social situations even with people I didn't know, but because of grief I was a short way from breaking down and crying. My lip quivered and my eyes brimmed with tears.

The girl gave a look of concern, and put a hand on my back. "Come on, you can sit with my mom and I, everything will he just fine." she consoled.

I smiled, wiping my tears away and looking up at her face. Her brown eyes were kind, and weren't puffy from crying in the slightest, unlike mine. I could tell that she'd never met my mother before, as Jude was sweet, and if you had you would be nothing but devastated at her death. Well I guess it was Harleen now, not Jude; I was still getting used to that.

The two of us walked into the building, and took a seat on the pew next to the older woman. She was unbothered, just staring at nothing through her black sunglasses, ones that she didn't even decide to take off indoors.

There were a couple other people on the other row of pews, who had their faces hidden or turned away. In fact, everyone except me and the younger girl was fairly mysterious. Maybe my increased strength martial art fighting mother who had a baby with the Joker was more complex than I thought.

"I'm Violet, by the way." the friendly girl announced to me as the two of us walked out of the door once the ceremony was finished. She offered her hand.

"I'm Marceline, nice to meet you." I responded, taking her hand and shaking it. She had quite a strong grip, and I cringed as I didn't expect it.

Violet's mother quickly bumped past us both and paced through the door. I frowned. "Don't mind her," Violet murmured, as the two of us strolled much slower. "She just doesn't really like people."

I looked at her a bit puzzled for that explanation, but I accepted it. Everything was just confusing now and I just had to roll with it and move on; for example I had known my mother as Jude Doe my whole life, and to hear her being called Harleen Quinzel in that ceremony really didn't sit right with me. It bugged me that maybe I'd just gone to the wrong funeral and I just needed to sneak out, but then a picture of her came on. Blonde hair, red lipstick, all done up. Just like how I remembered her as a child.

We stood around a grave shaped hole as the minister proclaimed about life and death, and how happy Harleen will be with her parents in Heaven. I seemed to be the only one that understood that Harleen wouldn't be happy, as her parents and her were constantly at wits end, and all they'd be doing in Heaven is arguing. I tipped my head silently and let tears run down my face onto the grave below.

"If anyone would like to give Miss Quinzel a send off, now is the time." the minister finally said, using signifying for the people to place thoughtful messages or flowers on the casket before it is lowered.

One of the mysterious people, a black haired woman, greys creeping in from all over, placed a bouquet of flowers on the top.

Violet's mother tensed up. "Selina, did you really have to get real, dead flowers? Do you have no respect?" she snapped.

Selina groaned. "I was trying to show some respect for Harley, Ivy, what kind of idiot would I look if I put fake flowers there instead?" she muttered, folding her arms.

Ivy balled up her fists. "You know, if this wasn't a funeral, I'd make it so you won't ever have the strength to pick innocent organisms like that again!" she spat, and Violet tried to calm her down.

"Ladies, please this is a place of rest-" the minister began, holding his arms up and adopting a soft tone of voice.

"Did she have any reason to disturb those flowers' rest? Of course not! So shut your face your slimy meatsack!" Ivy yelled, and I broke down crying.

"I don't know who you people are, but can you just shut the hell up?" I sobbed, my brow furrowed.

"Do you want to get crippled too? Who do you think you are talking to me like that? I'm-" she sneered, and I ground my teeth.

"I'm Harleen's daughter!" I shrieked, my voice very unstable. "So if you can all just have a little respect for my mother, I'm sure she'd freaking love that!"

After that it grew silent, and though Ivy had on large glasses, I could see the look of regret clear as day. No one else really spoke, not even the minister, and so my mom's casket was lowered, and covered with dirt.

"I love you." I breathed very quietly, as the last of it was covered, and the only thing you could see was soil.

The minister was a bit unnerved by the crowd of people gathered, and so gave his quick respects before quickly heading back into the crematorium. A lot of the mysterious people left, leaving only me, Violet and Ivy once again.

I sat on a nearby bench, staring at nothing in particular, and for once I didn't even cry. It was like I'd run out of tears or something.

Violet sat next to me, and everything about her oozed sympathy. "I'm sorry, I didn't know she was your mother." she finally said, and I sighed. "I'm really sorry for your loss."

I gave her a quick smile. "Thanks, I haven't really got much of that so far. I haven't got any other family, apart from my uncle Barry who won't bother to meet me, and my dad. But he's not really the emotional type." I replied.

"Yeah, if I remember correctly, he's a bit of a twat." Ivy murmured, and I bit my tongue. She looked down at me, and removed her glasses. Now that I could see her face clearly, I saw that she had light green eyes, with equally as green skin, and a straight Greek nose. Vines curled around her cheekbones and some seemed to crawl from the corners of her eyes, which made me cringe a little. She bent down to me. "Although I am quite crude, I'm sorry to hear about your mother. She was...a very dear friend of mine for many years, who I tried to keep in touch with even after she moved away. When I heard she had been killed I... I broke down." Her green and yellow eyes filled with tears, and spilled down her face, which only seem to twinge it with a darker green. "She never told me she had a daughter, probably in case I told your old man, which I'd never do because I hate his guts-"

She tended up and looked away, but wiped her eyes and turned back. "I just want you to know how much she meant to me, no matter how spineless she could be sometimes, she was perfect. And I'm telling you now because I never really got the chance to tell her in these last ten years. And I really hate myself for it."

We stared into each other's eyes, and I felt my face sting with tears. "I'm sure she already knows how you feel." I whimpered, barely able to get my words out.

Ivy pulled me into a hug. "Oh I swear Auntie Ivy's going to cherish you like she should have cherished Harley. You're welcome around our house anytime, sweetpea." she laughed, relieved.

I pulled away as a loud honking sounded.

"Come on, Marceline, don't keep me waiting all day, we've got business to attend to!" The Joker called, leaning out of the tinted window of a car. He was in the back, whilst a poor henchman was driving.

"So you are alive." Ivy stated, glaring at him. "You have some nerve showing up here."

He cackled. "Plant lady! A pleasure to see you again! Still crying over spilt petunias?" he mocked, and Violet and I quickly exchanged numbers.

Ivy's chlorophyll filled blood was almost boiling, and so I decided to take my leave and end the situation whilst I could. I had no idea why she hated him so much, but I just didn't want her to threaten to kill him like she did with Selina.

"Well, I better be off, it was lovely meeting you both!" I called, back toward the car and waving.

"Bye sweetpea!" Ivy replied.

"Nice to meet you, Leenie!" Violet followed.

I beamed back at them, climbing into the back of the car, and rolling up the windows.


	10. psychosis

4:02 am

I awoke, my eyes heavy. My sheets were thrown aside and I forced myself to get out of bed. I wasn't quite sure why, until I looked around - I was surrounded by grey walls, and came face to face with my poster of Frank Sinatra.

I was in my old room.

My heart skipped a feet and it was if an alarm went off in my mind as the clock rolled around to 4:03 am. The thumping began, and I felt like everything was crumbling around me.

"Mom!" I called, and though I ran through the stairs, it felt as if I was running on a treadmill, never any further away, yet never any closer.

Then there was cling film being wrapped around me and I panicked, grabbing my pocket knife and slicing through it like butter. The thumping was just getting louder, as I clambered down the stairs, and opened the door.

She was right there in front of me once again, though this time she was towered over by shadowy figures, who ran as soon as they saw me. I didn't bother to follow, just looking down at my mother with wet eyes, and kneeling down next to her. I pulled her toward me, holding her limp body in my arms, and I sobbed.

"Pathetic." I heard a voice echo.

I turned toward the direction of the voice only to see my father, dressed in his suit and holding a metal mallet.

"Wh...a..a..t?" I murmured, my voice weak and unwilling to escape my lips.

He sneered, tipping his hammer from hand to hand. "I said it's pathetic, all this crying." he mocked. "How are you going to replace me if you keep crying like a baby? I don't think I've ever cried."

My brow furrowed whilst my lip shook. "My mother just died, right in front of me, you heaving worm." I growled.

He tipped the hammer to the floor, resting on it like a cane. "There's nothing there, Harley." he replied.

I whipped back around to see my hands empty, just ashes on my palms. My eyes shot wide open as they darted around the room looking for her. The realisation of him calling me my mom's name sent in, and I turned around to retort something, but he wasn't there, instead it was the shadowy figures.

They were beating my dad's head in now.

I woke up with a jolt, sitting upright in bed and hugging my knees. Chewing my lip, I heard my breathing get heavier, almost as if it wasn't my own. My eyes could clearly see there was nothing but I soon jumped out of bed, darting around the room searching for something, anything, as if trying to keep myself sane. When I had checked everywhere, and was sure there were no shadowy figures about to beat my head in, I climbed back onto my bed, and held my head in my hands.

It was only 5 am. A very odd time, where it was too late to call night, and too early to call morning. A time where I knew that if I was awake, I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep.

I sighed, throwing my legs back over my bed, and pulling on my blue fluffy slippers, which were starting to look a little tattered. My eyes were heavy, but I managed to stagger out of my room, and down to the lounge. Everyone seemed to do things during the night, and so everyone in the hideout seemed to be fast asleep at 5 am. I was glad about that.

I brewed a cup of strong coffee, and crashed onto the plastic sofa, almost spilling the scolding liquid on my leg. I hardly flinched, just sighing gruffly, and breathing in the bean scent.

"Ya know I hate it when ya spill your coffee everywhere." she sighed.

I looked up through my white hair, seeing the rotting corpse of my mother fully mobile and moving as if her head wasn't about to fall apart.

"Well we're not at home so it's fine." I replied, pushing my hair back, seemingly unbothered that I was seeing her. At least I had company.

She rolled her eyes, that were almost falling out of her sockets. "This is ya new home now, Marcie. Don't be messing nothing up, okay?"

I gave her a look. "I feel like a rotting corpse makes more of a mark than a cup of coffee- are those maggots?" I suddenly went on a tangent as I noticed a maggot crawl out of the wound on her head and rummage through the tangled mess that was her brown hair. "Cool!"

"Marcie, have some sense..." she started.

I put my coffee down. "Why should I? I'm probably still dreaming, and this is my punishment for watching too many horror films or something. Very original."

She played with her wound. "Ya very much awake, ya just sufferin' from early onset psychosis, most likely brought on from my death. Plus ya was a flop in the mental illness genetic lottery, who knows what heavy shit ya daddy got."

I stared at her, before picking up the cup of coffee and pouring it over my arm. It was very hot, and stung as I pour it, and my eyes widened.

"I am awake." I murmured, throwing the cup across the room and hearing it smash.

Harleen sighed. "Now look what ya did. I know ya got the messy genes from ya dad."

My arm throbbed, and I groaned, drying it off on my shirt. I was stopped in my actions as I heard the wooden doors open.

"What the hell is goin' on in here?" A male Gotham native spoke, I could place the accent right away. A goon. "Man I've been up all night working and I just need quiet."

I poked my head over the sofa, glaring. "I'm obviously talking to my dead mom. Shove off." I retorted.

He shook his head. "Crazy bitch." he muttered under his breath, though it was so quiet that I could clearly hear him.

Though I was exhausted, I curled my hands into fists and suddenly every inch of me was angry. A version of myself leaned against my shoulder.

"That was uncalled for, maybe you should teach him a lesson." she advised me, her grin growing devilish at the end.

As it usually happened in movies, I expected another Marceline to hop onto my other shoulder, and try to warn me otherwise. But there was nothing.

"Oh yeah, we didn't have the budget for an angel." she sighed, looking back toward the poor goon that seemed to have his hand firmly on his gun in his holster, as he watched me look into thin air. "Anyway as I was saying, punish him." She leaned over to my ear. "Kill him."

The words made me shiver, but I got up, and feigned innocence, holding my hands up. "You're not gonna shoot me, are you? I'm an unarmed seventeen year old girl, and I'm just tired, yannow?"

He faltered, giving me a nervous smile and taking his hand off of his weapon.

Bad move, buddy.

I pretended I was walking past him out of the door, before spinning around and sending a firm kick to his head. He was unprepared and so was knocked to the ground. His guard was temporarily down but his gun wasn't in reach, and so I put an arm around his neck and began to choke him out. This extra strength came in quite handy as he should have physically much stronger than a girl my size, but I finally managed to knock him unconscious.

I grabbed the gun from his hip, and stuck the barrel in his mouth, firing several shots into the back of his skull. I sent a few more into his torso, until it jammed, and I threw it down. The gun shots rattled throughout the hideout, and the last two managed to rattle me out of my situation. No longer was evil Marcie sitting there coaxing me on; no more was my dead mother lay there, moving so perfectly; no longer was I angry. It was just me and this dead body.

My body began to shake, and I clutched my hand to my mouth. What the hell had I been thinking? What came over me? Inside of my chest I could feel my heart hammering to be out, and I stood up slowly, certain that my legs were going to turn to jelly. I shuffled, rather disorientedly past the man, as if this was all yet another horrible dream.

"I'm losing my mind," I murmured to myself, my hands white from gripping onto my shirt so tightly. I shook my head. "Everything's fine, early onset psychosis, that man I just killed wasn't even real. Just a thing my unconscious made up. Yeah, nothing's real." I convinced myself, finally reaching my door.

I returned to my bed, my head spinning, but I had convinced myself that none of this was real. Little did I know that I pulled the covers up to my face with bloody hands.


	11. the academy

I was awoken later that morning by a series of loud knocks.

"Holdonaminuteh," I slurred, rolling over and subsequently fell out of bed.

I staggered to my feet, and tiredly approached my bedroom door. Opening it, I found my dad there, energised and looking like the polar opposite of me.

As he saw me, his grin grew. "Christ, I thought something had happened, what with you sleeping in until 12! Late night was it?" he probed, and I wasn't entirely sure if he knew what happened last night. Why would he know anyway, I was sure I'd dreamt it, just like how I saw my mom.

I paused. "Erm, I don't know. Last night was all one big nightmare, I just needed a lot of sleep." I replied, yawning.

He cocked an eyebrow upwards. "Well one of the henchmen was killed last night, and I've just spent all morning trying to work out who did it. Because I didn't, and I can't have henchmen killing each other off, or I'll have no crew left." he chuckled.

I shifted uncomfortably. "That's... horrible. Ho-how did he die?" I asked, changing my stature to seem less awkward and tired.

"Why don't you tell me?" he replied, deepening his voice and lowering his head to mine.

My heart skipped a bit and I felt my throat go dry. "W-What? Why- erm- would I k-know?" I stammered, pushing my long, white hair back.

He smirked. "Did you know you had blood on your face?"

I flushed red, and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. My pale white reflection stared back at me; the crimson of the blood was strikingly contrasting with the rest of my features. Blood was also dried on my hands and I quickly scrubbed it off, watching the red liquid wash off of them, getting more dilute by the second.

The Joker moved to the door of the bathroom just as I started to rub the blood off of my face, which instead just smeared it up my cheek. My breath sped up a little, but I simply tipped my head into the sink and under the water running out of the tap.

"You seem quite... bothered." he remarked, just as I stood upright and dried my clean hands and face. They were still bloody in my mind.

I creased my brow and turned to face him. "I'm really sorry about it all, I- something came over me and I thought I was going mad-" I started, holding one arm at the elbow with my other, meekly. I was sure he would be annoyed - it was his crew and it was probably hard to find them whilst still pretending he was dead. Sure he killed one the other day, but he was allowed to, no one was going to question him. I was new and had no real right. I didn't convey respect from others. I was just a teenager.

He suddenly pulled me closer and held me by the shoulders. Placing a kiss on my forehead quickly, he gave me a large grin. "Killing people already, without and encouragement from me, oh I'm so proud of you, toots!" he exclaimed, and I was taken aback, my eyes wide.

"I thought you'd be mad at me?" I breathed, my voice weak from worry, but a smile starting to form at the corners of my lips.

He waved a hand. "Mad? Pfft, I could never be mad at seeing my little girl commit murder! What did he say to provoke you? Come on, tell your old pops everything about it."

I sat against the sink. "He called me a crazy bitch," I explained, sighing. "He was probably right, I was arguing with my dead mom, and pouring coffee on myself." I looked down at my irritated arm, where there was a clean line between clean pale skin, and blistered red wound. "That's how I got this."

He raised an eyebrow yet again. "You saw Harley? Alive?"

I nodded. "But it was like she'd actually crawled out of the grave and was sitting opposite me. She wasn't made up and pretty in red and white like I remember her." I paused and scrunched up my features whilst I thought. "I was really tired and I poured the coffee over myself to check if I was dreaming."

"So you weren't dreaming her, which means you've inherited your dear dad's schizophrenia! This is possibly the best day of my life! Respectively of course." His eyes lit up and I gave him an unsure look.

"Can you even 'inherit' schizophrenia?"

"I don't know, ask your dead mother, she had the degree in psychology." He burst out laughing, and mentally and actually physically patted himself on the back.

Crossing my arms, and cringing at my burn, I scowled at him. "Hey, don't joke about her so willy nilly like that."

He lowered his laughter to an odd giggle, and waved around his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, looks like you haven't inherited my brilliant sense of humour."

I exhaled a little annoyedly, though it wasn't intentional. "Please can I be left alone to do what teenage girls do?"

"Just a minute, all of this praise leads somewhere you know. Well, I may be demented, but I'm not one to shit on the education system here in the US of A." He clasped his hands together. "I know you were homeschooled when you lived with Harley, and I was worried that you would be so soft that you'd need homeschooling here in Gotham, which would be very much of a hassle, me being a known dead man, and all-"

I opened the bathroom cabinets and acquired a sort of wound cream. Biting my cheek to stop myself from hissing, I began to slather it generously on my arm. The Joker handed me a roll of bandages, and I wrapped up my arm.

I sighed once I had finished. "Sorry, please continue."

"Well I was going to give you an option to go to a proper school, where you can meet new people, so you're not stuck in here all the time. That Isley girl goes, so you won't be alone. It's called Gotham Academy."

I bit my lip. Gotham Academy was well known on the East Coast, even in Maryland. Don't be fooled, just because it was called an academy didn't mean it was any good, in fact the school was previously Gotham High, but changed its name after trouble with the law, and also so it could claim more compensation from the government. It was also to try and trick people into thinking it was the fancy Gotham City Academy, that was destroyed several years ago and relocated to an offshore site to the west of Gotham. It even had a uniform, just to keep up the facade of being some posh private school, though it was very much a public high school, who let anyone in.

There weren't a lot of schools in Gotham, many of them being so frequently attacked by supervillains and children being kidnapped that they were either closed, or weren't repaired after being blown up. The one reason Gotham Academy still stood was because the students managed to scare off the criminals. That and they were probably home to a few of them.

He continued. "I was only gonna let you choose after you'd proved you could take care of yourself, but I think you've already done that." He let out a throaty giggle.

I looked down at my feet. I really didn't know anyone my age apart from Violet, and he was right that I'd get sick of seeing this hideout, but... I knew I'd get bullied. My skin condition always used to get me bullied at elementary school, and it wouldn't help that I'd lash out at the people that said the mean things. I remember having almost no friends, and I just worried I'd end up like that again - the freak eating their lunch in an empty classroom, not understanding why everyone thought I had a contagious disease, or that I was weird.

But I'd always be weird, whether I was at school at not. And maybe people at a Gotham school would be a hell of a lot weirder.

"Sure." I finally answered. "When do I start?"

He thought for a minute. "Well it's November now, and there's a semester break until the end of this week. So if you're ready, then Monday."

I bit my lip. "I hope it won't be too bad, me starting late and all. Everyone might have already settled in..." I shook my head. "I'll go, I'm sure of it."

He beamed at me. "Well then that's it! I'll get everything sorted, so you pumpkin, don't have to worry about a thing." He ruffled my hair. "Oh and Ivy called. When I removed all the slander and slurs against me, she said that you can come over any time and she'll take care of you."

I smiled. Maybe I could pay the Isleys a visit, and ask Violet about the school before Monday.

"Okay, you're dismissed." I joked, laughing, and he smiled.

"Don't start getting cocky now." He warned, shaking his head to himself.

I shooed him playfully, and he left, cackling to himself as he shut the door behind him.


	12. the isleys

The Isley's house was a grand structure, with pale grey brick walls, that were almost entirely covered by crawling plants. The roof was a faded dark brown, with the remains of some gargoyles that had long since fallen off, and smashed on the ground below.

The place was far detached from the rest of Gotham, being located in Toxic Acres, an estate in Gotham that had been abandoned for decades, though I wasn't sure why it hadn't been bulldozed yet. Apparently it was radioactive, and only those with "immunity" like Poison Ivy, could survive there. Anyone else would die of overexposure to gamma rays. Violet admitted that was a rumour made up to keep people away.

A variety of plants crept around the perimeter, strangling the iron bars of the gate, and also snakes their way over the black metal front door. Cream covered curtains kept the contents of the house hidden from view from the outside. Or outsiders.

The large house was one of many on the estate, and each was made to be identical, though some had deteriorated over the years, and after the earthquake that caused No Mans Land. Each house had an identical stone path that led up to the door, with weeds and flowers sprouting up between the slabs. I cautiously walked up to the door, Violet had texted me the address, but I didn't really believe her at first. Maybe I should have - it really was the perfect place for a very recognisable ex-supervillain and her daughter to hide.

I raised my hand to knock on the door, but before I could even rap once, the vines around the door crept back, and it flew open. Violet stood there with a large, excited grin, with her frizzy, wild ginger hair flowing out in a sort of halo around her head. She had an on a black distressed band shirt, and baggy red and white tartan trousers.

"Leenie!" she exclaimed. "You took your time, you said you'd be here thirty minutes ago." She leaned against the door frame.

I rolled my eyes. "It took me forever to find the place - Toxic Acres isn't marked on maps of Gotham you know. Also the henchman that drove me got superstitious and said he didn't want to drive any further than the gates of the estate because he'd get ill."

Violet laughed. "The waste plant here shut down twelve years ago, shows people still stick to old rumours." she replied, pushing her hair back. She stood aside to let me past. "Anyway I got your message about starting Gotham Academy, that's so legit, dude."

I moved into the front room, gazing up at the fittingly floral wallpaper, and the pictures of Ivy and Violet at various ages. Stopping to look at one, I saw a medium skinned child around seven, with bright brown eyes like a doe, and big curly ginger hair. She had a big smile, just like the Violet I had seen at the door. The picture had been cut out of a larger picture, and looked odd on its own in the large frame.

Violet stood beside me and looked at the picture. "It used to be part of a bigger picture," she answered, before I even asked the question. "Mom cut it out because she didn't want to look at all of my siblings."

My eyes widened. She had siblings? And why would Ivy not want to look at her own children? "Why?" I asked, as she replaced the picture where it was before I picked it up.

She was silent for a minute, folding her arms across her. "It's a very long story, maybe one for another time."

I gave her a questioning look, and we stood there for a certain amount of time in silence, before Violet suddenly sprang back into action. "Well, enough with that, I need to show you something." she suddenly announced, setting off in a specific direction.

I followed her and we went up a flight of stairs until we reached a brown wooden door, with a large corny yellow sign on it, that read 'do not enter, unless you have food' in bold. We entered through it, and I was genuinely taken aback by what was revealed inside: the room was head to toe covered in pictures of celebrities, and old film stars like Bridget Bardot. The room was full of colour, with the bed being a bright green, and covered in all shades of fluffy pillows. Facial products, moisturisers and hair oils littered every raised surface like her window sill and bedside table, and the smell of old weed hung in the air.

"Damn." was all I could say, as I hung in the doorway.

She threw herself down on her bed. "It's neat, right? I think I managed to perfectly encapsulate myself - bright and over cluttered." she laughed.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and wandered around, still taking everything in. "I'm guessing it isn't incense." I added, as my eyes fell upon a picture of Harrison Ford that was covered in kisses made of lipstick.

She lay back. "I hope you're not bothered by me occasionally smoking a bit of the devil's lettuce." she purred, giggling a little.

I turned back to face her, raising an eyebrow. "My dad is the Joker, I think I have to be okay with anything at this point." I joked in retort, and she gave me a cheesy grin.

"So now we should get to the meat of the day... the makeover." she reported, and I sat on the bed with her.

I almost burst out laughing. "What, like in those cheesy girl flick movies? How exciting." I replied, sarcastically, but she was already getting out her various tools of makeovering.

She sighed. "Kinda, but it does have its use. Like what's your plan for school on Monday?"

"Just walk in and attend school?"

She stared me right in the eyes and wagged her finger at me. "No, because your face is in all the papers on the East Coast, and you won't be going to school because you'll have been identified and you'll be getting dragged back to wherever you came from." she explained. "But if I give you a good enough makeover, then you might actually get through your first day."

I sighed. "Fine, I suppose the makeover is necessary. Do I have to change my name too?"

She nodded, getting makeup brushes out, and beginning to pack makeup on my face. "I can't use Isley because only Pamela Isley has that second name in Gotham. So I go by Violet Simpson. You could pretend to be my cousin or something, and go by Simpson too?"

I nodded the slightest amount, so Violet didn't mess up the makeup. "Maybe Marcie Simpson? Marceline is quite full on, and I don't expect it's a very common name, apart from that girl in Adventure Time."

She thought for a bit, before getting out her phone. "Marcie is still quite rare, but I have an idea," Violet typed in something and then passed the phone to me, which showed a name generator. "Maybe give it a spin and you can choose the best one?"

I nodded, and pressed the big button on the screen, until it came to a name.

Daisy.

I scrunched up my nose. "I don't really know, isn't Daisy more of a baby name, or a dog's name?"

Violet laughed. "I think it's perfect. And hey it's a flower, so I'm sure it'll pass with my mom."

I smiled back, and burst out laughing too. "Oh go on, I'll use it. Daisy Simpson, my new identity."

She beamed. "That would be great! I can have another member of the Cool Club, finally."

I raised an eyebrow. "The cool club? Sounds... cool."

She finished my makeup. "Right now it's just me and Luka, but now it can be a trio, like the Three Musketeers or something."

I laughed, it kinda felt like we'd been friends forever, when in reality we'd only met a few days ago. It felt crazy to think that, but maybe we were always meant to be friends, and that's why the way we talked felt so natural. Even when I'd got back from the funeral, I'd stayed up almost all night messaging back and forth with her, just talking about random things, like animals, or our favourite type of weather, what we'd wanna do when we grew up. I still had no idea, but Violet wanted to study the weather. She said that she'd practically been born into nature, being part plant, so the best she could do was educate herself on the other parts of nature.

I was kinda jealous she had everything laid out. I'd never really thought about life after high school, or life as an adult at all, honestly. And that was slightly scary as I was turning eighteen in March, which was... four months away.

"How do you want your hair?" Vi abruptly asked, throwing me out of my thoughts.

"Hair? You mean like how I want it cut?" I stammered, a little confused. I thought this would just be slapping on makeup and dancing around in clothes I wouldn't normally wear, before talking about boys - that was usually what makeovers were like in movies. Plus I hadn't cut my hair in years, as I refused for my mom to ever touch it, after she messed it up when I was eleven, and left me with a bowl cut. I was just lucky I was homeschooled, and nobody saw me until it grew out. Except my mom, and she never let me forget it.

She nodded, grabbing scissors rather dangerously and waved them about, like a caricature of a hairdresser. "I don't really know what I'm doing, but that's the beauty of it, y'know?" she replied.

I looked at her warily. "Err... okay, just cut a little off then?" I murmured in reply, and she flashed me a big grin.

She grabbed a piece at random, just above my shoulder, and snipped it. I let out a sharp breath, and I turned to look up at her, with her holding up the long strand of white hair she'd just cut off.

My eyes grew wide, and my mouth fell agape. "You did not." I stated, my voice serious.

She bit her lip to stop her laughing, and mine trembled, before the two of us burst out laughing. "I didn't mean to I swear!" she cackled, waving around the chunk of hair.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I managed to calm down. "Do the rest of the hair the same as that piece, and don't dare do it any higher!" I warned, albeit jokingly.

She nodded with a smile, and raised the scissors, continuing on with the rest of my hair. When she raised the mirror it hardly looked like me, and I couldn't help but laugh again. My face was painted with Violet's foundation, which unfortunately, was a couple shades too dark, and reminded me that I would need one that would actually fit me. My purple eyes were surrounded by dark brown eyeshadow, and lashes long with thick black mascara. White hair was the main attention of my eyes, and they observed how it smoothly trailed across my face, but stopped just at my shoulders, in a blunt cut.

I kind of... liked it.

I just hoped it worked for Monday.


	13. monday

I gave myself one last look in the mirror before I went. Short hair that sprung up in waves; pale white skin flushed red with nervousness; a pouty bottom lip - much similar to how I looked starting elementary, except then I had my grandparents stood behind me, before making me late for my first day by taking far too many pictures of me.

I remembered that my mom couldn't be there, and so she'd bought me a little outfit for my first day - an white shirt with bright orange foxes all over them, and a pair of brand new, orange corduroy overalls. Pulling on my favourite pair of shoes: black Mary-Janes with shiny buckles and non scuffed leather, I'd hopped in my granddads car, and we'd driven to the nearest elementary school in Bensonhurst.

Now I stood here, twelve years later, in the mandatory uniform for Gotham Academy - a white blouse, a brown pencil skirt, and a matching brown blazer. So much less exciting and bright, much like how my personality had deteriorated.

My short hair wasn't something I'd quite gotten used to, and neither was the makeup I'd tried to apply to make me appear less albino. It wasn't that I was ashamed of who I was, I just knew that my face was possibly still on the news, and walking around as an obvious albino was like suicide. To achieve this I'd put on dark mascara on my eyebrows and eyelashes, dyed my hair a darker, mousier blonde, and threw on a pair of clear lens glasses, just to try and hide my purplish eyes. Purple eyes were more common than people thought, being just a very depigmented blue, but they still were rare, and I couldn't take my chances.

I turned away, to find my father staring at me, and I jumped. "You startled me there." I muttered, holding a hand to my chest. "I thought you were the Joker, not the Scarecrow."

He didn't pay attention to what I was saying, just stood there, staring at my face. "I've thought about this moment for a while - seeing your first day at school." he started, as I put a hand on my hip. "Of course I thought you'd be a small girl, not verging on womanhood."

I crinkled my features - it didn't sound right, me almost being an adult. One my age was supposed to be excited to leave the nest and go to better places, and yet I was still quite terrified to grow up. Jumping from family to family, I knew how to rely on myself rather than others, but I still wanted someone to be dependant on.

Maybe I just needed a shrink.

Soon I was waving off my dad, and found myself walking the unfamiliar path from the hideout to the local dentist's surgery, where I was told that the school bus would pick kids from that area up. It was only a five minute walk, and I'd memorised the directions on how to get there and back, though I still felt very tense, and grit my teeth together as I walked. I wasn't a very anxious person, per ce, but this simple thing was building up so much anxiety that I was afraid I might faint.

Nevertheless I got there for 7:45, and stood around trying not to look awkward as I waited for the bus.

"You're new." a light, male voice spoke, and I turned around to look at him in confusion.

The boy who had spoke was around fifteen, but obviously hadn't quite hit puberty yet. His voice was light and slightly high, and he was shorter than me. He had shaggy brown hair, and wore a grey hoodie, strewn over his brown uniform.

"Yeah, it's my first day of Gotham Academy today." I replied, coolly, adjusting my bangs. It may have been a mistake to cut them last night.

He rubbed his neck. "Yeah I thought so, I've only been here less than a couple years but I haven't seen you around here. I live over there in that big apartment block just outside of Burnley, but this is the closest place they'll pick me up. It's usually only me that gets on here." he added.

I raised an eyebrow. "You've only just met me and you're telling me where you live? I could be a murderer for all you know."

He laughed. "You wouldn't be the first around here. But it's whatever, I do Judo so I could easily flip you." He held his hands up in a martial art like stance.

I chuckled. "I'll know not to mess with you then. I'm Daisy, by the way. A senior, and not a murderer." It felt more like I was reminding myself of my role, rather than introducing myself to him.

"I'm Terry, a sophomore and also not a murderer." We both chuckled lightly, until a bright yellow bus swung around the corner, and Terry stood forward on the sidewalk.

The bus stopped and he got on, whilst I paused, a little nervous. The bus driver seemed dazed, like he had been doing the same route for years, and now could probably do it with his eyes closed. Nevertheless he waited for me to get on, and closed the doors behind me, as I threw myself down onto the closest free double seats. I felt eyes burning on me, which was natural seeing as I was new, but I ignored them and didn't turn around for the whole ride.

Violet lived in Robbinsville, and so took the subway to Gotham Academy, which was located close to Gotham University in the mid west. As I got off the bus I noticed her straight away, sitting on some of the bike racks outside the school.

The school itself was an old gothic red brick building, with white windows and white statement pillars around the wide entrance doors. Two American flags stood blowing in the wind beside the white stone path that led along the grass. Or at least it was once grass, it seemed so many people walked across it instead of the set path, that now only dirt and odd bits of green resided. One of the flags also had a large penis painted on it in a very noticeable shade of yellow.

My only friend saw me as I approached her and her face immediately lit up. She wore a uniform just like mine, except she had opted to wear brown trousers. She also wore trainers, which weren't allowed according to the school's list of uniform rules, but with a quick look around, one could see that students didn't really care about the uniform rules. Everyone wore the set white shirt and brown skirt or trousers, but everyone wore it differently. Some people wore jackets and hoodies instead of blazers, and a lot of people wore jeans instead of loose trousers.

"Leen- I mean Daisy, how's it hanging?" Violet spoke, getting up from her comfy spot on the metal racks.

I sighed. "I'm a little worried and still not used to Daisy, but I guess I'll just have to get used to it. So I can stay safe y'know." I replied, with my hands in my blazer pockets. "Anyway, lets get this school thing over with."

She smiled, leading me in the double doors. The noise of students chatting and laughing between themselves hit me, and I was immediately taken aback by it. It was so odd to be surrounded by so many young people, and just being in a school setting after seven years.

There was a tall wooden staircase as the main centrepiece as you entered, which had several names and signs carved into the sides. We didn't walk up them, instead taking a right, and walking along a corridor full of lockers. Various posters were stuck on the free space on the walls, some about clubs, and a few trying to convince students to vote for certain people for class president.

'Don't be a bore, vote for Harry Salvatore.' was what was on one particular poster, which seemed to be plastered everywhere. A bit overkill, if you asked me.

We stopped at a door with a frosted glass window, which read 'Principal Lim' in a bold font.

Violet placed a knock on the door, and opened it soon after. Inside was a balding East Asian man sat at a desk, with a large grin as he looked up at the fairly young male teacher with a teasing look that sat on that desk. As we entered, the teacher turned to look at us, surprised, and dismissed himself, leaving quickly.

Principal Lim looked at Violet with a scowl. "I should think it was you, Miss Simpson." he sighed, massaging his temples. "Do please knock before you enter a room."

She sneered. "I did knock, you just didn't hear over your heartbeat increasing looking at Mr Dryworst. Does your husband know about him?" she replied, playing with the snake necklace around her neck.

He gave her a fed up look. "Why do you have such a bad attitude? We've just had a semester break, or does your wrath never stop?" he asked, still not paying attention to me.

"I'm still mad at you for confiscating my stock last semester."

"You were selling drugs, end of story."

"They were specially grown herbal medicines, as I've already told you, to cure specific conditions, even the fucking common cold, they're really important if you want people to learn better around here!" She was waving her hands around to better annunciate her words.

He shook his head. "You can't cure the common cold-"

"With the right plants you can!" she quickly interjected.

"It doesn't matter, you're not getting them back, and she should think yourself lucky you aren't getting expelled. Is that all?" He looked down at his desk at a few pieces of paperwork.

"Actually I came here to get a timetable for Daisy here, she's a new student." I waved awkwardly as he looked up at me.

"Daisy Simpson, yes I heard we were getting a new student." He turned to talk directly at me. "I do hope you aren't as cocky as your friend here."

I gave him a small smile, not knowing what and so not saying anything at all. Luckily, he typed something into his computer, and hit print. The printer beside his desk spat out a sheet of paper and he quickly handed it to me.

"Thanks," I replied, and Violet and I left the office without another word.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind me.

"What do you have first?" Vi asked, taking out a strip of gum, and handing me some.

I popped it in my mouth. "Art?" I replied.

Grinning, she played with her hair. "Same, it's easy enough, so it should be a lot of fun. Come on, I can show you around." she laughed.

She took my hand, and we walked along the corridor once again.


	14. art class

Gotham Academy was a larger school than I once thought.

The place was split into several sections, such as the library, the main building and the gymnasium, however a lot of the land was occupied by sports area. A large running track, an American football field and a swimming pool could be found on the north side of the school campus, and posters dotted along every wall supported the emphasis on sports.

The last principal, a Dr Fine, was busted by the GCPD for smuggling cocaine, and it was reported that he ran faster than any other fifty-five year old man they'd ever seen.

Violet and I finished our tour of the school, and I couldn't help but admit that I was a little out of breath. My feet also seemed to be rejecting the black leather shoes I thought I would be required to wear; tomorrow it would definitely be trainers.

"What clubs are there around here?" I asked, taking a glance at the myriad of multicoloured posters around the halls. "Some of the posters are a little confusing."

"Errr... well there's the general sports ones, the soccer and track, y'know," she started, counting on her fingers and looking up as if she was mentally exploring her brain. "There's chess, though I think a member attacked another student with chess pieces, so that might be suspended for a while. I think there's a DD group, albeit they don't really like new members joining, so we might not be welcome there." She rubbed her neck. "You're better off asking someone with their shit together."

I caught a look at a bright blue and pink poster that had been neatly stapled onto the wall.

"Cheerleading?" I read from the piece of paper, before turning back to Violet with a splitting grin. "You have cheerleading?"

Violet scrunched up her nose. "Every school in America does, have you been living under a rock?"

Her comment didn't shake me and I continued to beam. "I was homeschooled, but cheerleading looks like so much fun on TV!"

She looked a little uncomfortable. "Well it's not all it's made out to be, so it's probably not a good idea-"

"Come on, it'll be fun! You do want me to experience all this school has to offer, don't you?" I cut her off, she was probably just being nervous, and if there's one thing I wasn't, it was nervous. Although I wasn't the girliest girl, a dream of mine when I was younger was to be a part of a cheerleading squad, and be one of those people that gets held right at the top.

She sighed. "Fine, but if you hate it I can say I told you so." she murmured, defeated.

I pulled her in for a big hug. "Oh thanks, bud! School is turning out to be so good!"

I heard Violet sigh once again, but this time it was slightly more positive. "You haven't even had lessons yet, dummy," she replied, smiling even as I pulled away. She slung an arm through my arm, and we started to walk. "Now lets get to Art, the bell's gonna go soon."

The art rooms were found in the main building, and were fairly small, with large tables were students sat around with their canvases at an angle. Colourful drawings and detailed sketches adorned every part of the walls, leaving no white paint showing from behind. We were some of the last to arrive, and so the two of us slung ourselves down around a table near the back.

Violet gave a large grin to a black boy sat a short distance across the table, and he gave an uninspired one in return. He seemed tired, and paused to rub his dark eyes under his thick rimmed glasses.

She turned to gesture at me. "Daisy, this is Tuamaguluka David." she introduced.

The boy rolled his eyes, and played with the black fishnet top that he wore under his short sleeved school shirt. "Literally no one calls me that, apart from my mother. It's Luka, nice to meet you." he added, in a flat, low tone.

We weren't close enough to shake hands, but I signalled jokingly like a soldier with my hand. He gave a quick smile, but we were interrupted by the teacher entering the room. She wasn't in a suit like the other teachers, she looked quite casual, and wore her blonde hair up in a messy up-do.

"Morning everybody, have a good break?" she asked, throwing her bag down carelessly behind her desk.

She received lethargic groans in response, and I noticed how the lack of response knocked her down mentally. Normally I'd sympathise with her, but I just knew I'd never be a teacher - I just wasn't good with that sort of thing.

"So today we'll be starting a new project, namely focusing on greyscale. You'll have today to plan it, and then the next ten hours in lessons to complete it." she continued, sitting down in her chair, before cutting focus on the students and placing it onto her computer. "Enough from me, just get on with it."

Right as the words left her lips, the class erupted in chatting and sniggers. People moved to the few computers in the room, but didn't bother to turn them on, and Luka sighed.

"We can't even pretend we're doing anything in here," Violet spoke, playing with a curl that had fallen in front of her face. "What's say we go to the library instead?"

I lifted an eyebrow. "You can just walk out of class? I thought you'd get in trouble?" I replied, scratching my face, and immediately regretting it as I removed some of my makeup.

Luka laughed a little, a sound which absolutely didn't fit his glum posterior. "You only get in trouble here if you directly bother a teacher. I bet no one will even notice we're gone, and if they do, we can just say we needed to research our project." he answered, getting up, and Violet and I followed suit.

The three of us left through the door; I looked back at the teacher to notice she didn't even look up as we went.

"So what brings you to this hellhole?" Luka asked, as we walked along the empty corridors. I head read online that American schools had one or two hall monitors to stop students loitering in the halls during lessons, but there didn't seem to be anyone anywhere. The corridors were desolate - if any students wanted to slack off, they'd be on the sports field, or under the bleachers.

I shrugged. "It was the only school I really considered." I replied, honestly. It was the only one I considered because I didn't get much of a choice for another school. I didn't really think I'd be able to push the Joker enough to go to a posh private school offshore, or in Metropolis, which was miles off.

"She's my cousin, so our parents thought it would be best for us to go to school together, so she didn't really get much of a choice." Violet quickly added, though it wasn't the most convincing lie.

Luka stopped walking, giving her a 'really bitch?' look, eyes flicking between Violet and I.

"She's from the white side of my family." she retorted, biting the inside of her cheek to stop her giving anything away.

"Funny that as long as I've known you, you've never mentioned any white cousins called Daisy..." he trailed off, as Violet glared at him.

I waved a hand. "Fine, we're not cousins, don't grill her, ok?" I ordered, my tone just hinting at seriousness.

Luka started to walk again, slightly insulted, but I didn't take notice. If we were gonna be friends, I needed him to know that I didn't fuck around.

"So how long have you been friends for?" I inquired, after a minute of awkward silence.

"Since eighth grade, if I can remember correctly." Violet fulfilled, looking over at her friend. "We were lab partners in Chemistry, but he wouldn't even talk to me for the first few weeks."

He chuckled. "Because you kept singing random songs to yourself whenever there was awkward silence, so I felt I was interrupting something."

"You say that like I don't still sing randomly." she giggled, punching him playfully on the arm.

He paused. "Yeah, but I don't mind now."

We entered the library, which had a first and second floor for talking, and the third for silent working. The second floor looked fairly empty, so we all pulled up a seat around one of the many computers. At least I could see where part of the money for Gotham Academy was going. The rest was probably going to Principal Lim's private account in Switzerland.

Luka logged onto the school system, as Violet and I sat awkwardly on the rough plastic chairs.

"What should we do? And please don't lie and say school work." I laughed, crossing a knee over the other. I loved skirts, but they really restricted the leg positions I could do without flashing myself.

Violet thought. "Well we could hack the school site, Luka is really good with computer stuff like that."

Luka scrunched up his nose, his nose ring moving around with it. "I already did that a bunch last semester. It's just so easy that there's no real fun or challenge in it."

We all paused, followed by a myriad of hums and hahs.

"Maybe we can use the time to find out a bit more about Daisy here, see if she's a worthy of becoming a member of the 'Cool Club'" he spoke finally, the second part of his sentence dripping with sarcasm.

"Go right ahead." I replied, grinning.

"Where did you go before here?"

I thought about my words before I spoke. "I was homeschooled." I gave no more information than was necessary.

"It's clear you're not a Gothamite, so where are you from?"

"How is it obvious?"

"You've still got something to you that hasn't been stamped out by Gotham's great, big metaphorical foot. Like you've still got a snag to you, I don't know how to put it." He ran a head over his shaved head, feeling it prickle his fingertips. "And answer the question."

I sighed. "I'm from Maryland."

Violet's eyes widened. "Wow, that's legit! I've never met anyone from Maryland!"

Luka laughed. "You're obviously not cousins then, you don't even know where she's from? Why did you even pretend to be cousins?"

"Our moms are friends, so it's kinda like being cousins, I don't know, I thought it would be cute." Violet replied, rubbing her neck.

His eyes widened, and turned to me. "Your mom must be pretty cool, being friends with Poison Ivy. Vi's mentioned that she doesn't usually bother with friends, well not with humans. Is your mom a plant?"

I played with my nails and focused my energy on them, to avoid saying something hurtful. Ever since I'd killed that man, evil Marceline had been clawing at the back of my mind. But with a little (a lot) of self control, I managed to push her back. I would just need a heavy boxing session with the punching bag once I got home. "My mom died a couple weeks ago. I actually met Violet at the funeral."

Luka's arms fell to his sides, and his mouth stayed open, as he desperately tried to come out with something. It felt weird, but I was actually sick of sympathy.

"You don't have to say anything; if she hadn't died then I wouldn't be here, and at least I can be thankful that I got to make some friends." I added. "And it's cool that he knows who your mom is."

Violet laughed lightly. "It was an accident really, I threatened to strangle him with a houseplant and the rest just kinda fell out. He's the only one that knows though."

I stared at nothing. Maybe if I was comfortable enough I could tell them both the truth, so I wouldn't have to be so shifty. And so there wouldn't be anymore awkward moments like when he talked about mother.

Sometimes I could be rash with my decisions, and so I knew for sure - I would have to give this some more thought.


	15. truth

It took me two days until I finally came to a set decision.

The three of us were sat under a big tree on the school grounds, on a slight hill that overlooked the running track. There was a few people running today, each trying to out do the others. We weren't really talking about any set thing, just glossing over things like pineapple on pizza, and whether there was people out in the world under thirty were actually called Winston.

"I think I should come clear." I spoke, making sure I was completely covered in shade as the sun inched a little bit over in the sky. "Mostly to you, Luka."

Violet and Luka looked over at me, slightly confused albeit listening.

"I came here to Gotham from Baltimore because my dad had people kidnap me after my mom died. If you've seen anything in the news about a missing girl called 'Marceline Doe', that's me." I explained, pushing my hair back and taking off my glasses. "I'm desperate not to get caught by the authorities because they'll pull me off to an orphanage and I'll probably never see my dad again. He's the only family I really have left."

Luka thought over my words. "That's mad, its like you're on the run from the law. Wait did you say your dad kidnapped you?"

"He had people do it for him, he's supposed to be dead, y'see."

He paused for a minute. "Dead criminals with a relation to Ivy... oh holy Jesus, your dad is..." He lowered his voice, as if even saying his name would call him here. "The Joker?"

"No, obviously he's Calendar Man." I replied, with a deadpan face. Before long I burst out laughing, and covered my mouth. "Yeah, okay you're right."

He turned to look at me with wide eyes. "I'm really sorry about your mom, but shit, that's really, oh my fuck I'm talking to the daughter of the Joker... how is this even..."

I sighed. "I've only known it for two weeks, but that was basically my reaction too. Sadly I'm nothing like him, so I don't think meeting me means anything."

He laughed nervously, holding his head. "Oh god, why do you two have to be so cool? My ma is a nurse and my dad is a taxi driver, that's nothing compared to... ugh I don't know!"

I smiled. "I'm glad you haven't run away screaming like I half expected you to." Trying to at least calm him down, I patted his arm.

"So can I stop having to call you Daisy, if Luka knows?" Violet asked, her head balanced on her knees.

I nodded, and she fist bumped the air and exclaimed rather loudly.

"Fire away with your questions, I'm sure you wanna know more stuff." I laughed, the statement being mainly pointed at Luka, as he seemed so intrigued.

"What was your old house like? Was it supervillainy? Did you have clowns and harlequins everywhere?" Luka asked, his serious demeanour now broken in favour of knowing more.

"Well my mom gave up being a supercriminal when she took me in when I was ten, but she never once told me that. She didn't tell me anything about my dad, and went by Jude Doe instead of Harleen Quinzel. So the house was... normal really." I played with a strand of my white hair. "All I could say is that we were in a poor area so the surfaces were usually clear, and most things were hidden in compartments. In case we got robbed, my mom always said."

The cogs in Violet's head seemed like they were turning, as her face shifted and changed as she turned to me. "Mom told me Harley was killed in a break in, but..." She paused, as if she was finding the correct words, that wouldn't hurt me. "Did you get broken into any other time?"

Luka gave her a look. "Vi, you've been reading too many detective novels, don't start thinking this is a murder mystery. How do you think our new friend here feels?"

Nevertheless I responded, after a long search of my brain. "No, that was the first time. And I don't think they took anything."

Violet pulled a comical thinking pose, something that would have offended me had I been fresh from my mom's death. "Well I may have been reading too many murder mysteries, but evidence seems to point toward this being set up. Like even if the robbery had gone wrong and you had to kill someone, wouldn't you have taken the most valuable things?"

I shrugged. "Maybe robbers in Maryland are dumb. And I'm not even sure they took nothing, they might have picked up her jewellery. Only the BPD really know I suppose."

A large grin lit up on Violet's face. "What if we were to check the case file online, then?"

"Not to condone you, but I could enter into the system. It's a challenge but, I suppose I like challenges." Luka added.

I chewed my lip. "But won't it be able to see that someone has hacked in? They'll track you right back here."

He tapped his nose. "Then I'll just have to hide my IP address, like what you people call 'going incognito'."

"You people? Calm down, guy that once got hacked by some teenager on Club Penguin." Violet laughed.

He rolled his eyes, and I covered my mouth as I giggled. "Just get me a computer, and I can get to work."

"Alright, Mr expert, let's see what you can do."

-

Luka had studied programming for nearly seven years, and it certainly showed. I watched as fingers worked the keys, though they moved in such a delicate, alien way, that I soon felt myself getting lost.

After five or ten minutes - much longer than shown in movies - he finally stopped typing, and the computer presented the home screen of the Baltimore Police Department, which would usually only be shown when one had logged on.

"Voila." Luka announced, and Violet and I gave gasps of amazement.

"And we're in cognito, you're sure of that?" I asked, as he moved over to let me type on the computer.

"Absolutely. I'd explain how, but I feel like it might go over your heads." he replied, leaning back on his chair.

"You're right about that." I responded, typing 'Jude Doe' into the search bar.

A result came up from less than a month ago, and I quickly clicked on it.

Case no. 903

Prepared by Detective H Ramirez

Details:

Jude Doe, 44, found dead by Officer Jihad at 5AM after neighbour called in about a disturbance. Victim died instantly of trauma to the head, done with a blunt weapon, pathologist determined it was metal sledgehammer. Unidentified steroids found in victim's blood, unknown whether they were given before or after death. More tests to be conducted.

Update - Victim's body stolen from morgue, officers on night shift found dead, death by bleeding out due to gunshots. Daughter, a Marceline Doe, is confirmed missing. Body can't be analysed further, case has been passed onto the Federal Bureau Of Investigation.

"Shit." I swore, not turning away from the screen. "The FBI has the case now. So if we need more we'll have to go onto their site."

"That's not as easy, their system layout is preplanned for getting hacked into. Even I'm not that good." Luka groaned. "Well actually I could try once we get past the coded security wall, but for that, we'd need a digital key of sorts. There's no way to code around the wall."

I frowned. "So how do we get a key? It sounds like it's a hassle."

He began to explain, using his hands as a helper. "Well, in layman's terms, the FBI is a very high up organisation in terms of police, so the keys are most likely owned by people that are high up on the police ladder, per se. Like a captain, or commissioner."

"Ah Christ, I'll never get one of them. Unless I become a captain, and get the key in like ten years." I sighed.

"Actually," Violet started, a smile on her face. "It might be easier than that."

Luka and I looked at her curiously, and she continued. "The current commissioner is Commissioner Gordon, as it has been for the last thirty years. Well it just happens that one of his daughters goes here."

Luka rolled his eyes. "Oh god, not your vendetta against Emily Gordon again. She's done nothing to you." he retorted.

She glared at him. "Yeah but she's related to James Gordon, and he's done plenty wrong to me and my family." she defended. "Anyone related to those pigs in the GCPD can choke, in my opinion."

"You're implying we should convince this Gordon girl to just give us the key?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think she'll give it over that easily."

"No, I'm saying you infiltrate her group, get her to invite you into her house, and then steal the key off of the computer from right under her nose. That's easy enough, isn't it?" Violet began getting a little snappy, and I could tell she didn't care at all for this Emily Gordon. Well I suppose there was that saying - my friend's enemy is my enemy, so I would just have to go along with her on that.

"How do I infiltrate her group then?"

Violet smirked. "She's the head cheerleader at this school; all you'll have to do is get on the team." She sat back, and laughed a little. "Maybe going to cheerleading tryouts wasn't such a bad idea after all."


	16. cheerleading

"This certainly wasn't what I was expecting."

I stared at myself awkwardly in the tall changing room mirror, as Violet finished getting ready. We were both wearing the Gotham Knight's white and red cheerleading costumes, that the sports coach had given the five of us that were trying out for the team.

The top felt a bit low cut, especially for sports gear, whilst the skirt kept digging in. Definitely not how I expect to feel trying out for cheerleading.

I think it felt much cooler in movies.

It fit Violet much better, though that might have been because she was leaner and longer than I, though she still had a look of discomfort on her face.

"This was exactly what I was expecting." she sighed, brushing down her skirt and giving me the look. The look of, oh geesh what have we gotten ourselves into?

We left our school clothes in the changing rooms, and Violet and I, plus the three other girls with us, left and trekked onto the sports field. In the middle stood around three girls and all dressed in the red and white respective outfits, and the sports coach, who held a note board.

"Evening, ladies!" a sweet, almost giddy female voice called, as the five of us wandered over, all of us not knowing what to expect. She was mousy blonde, with tanned, freckled skin, and bright grey eyes. Almost as bright as her teeth, which she had definitely used her daddy's money to have done.

"That's Emily," Violet whispered discreetly. "Just so you know what you're in for."

I blew breath heavily out of my nose, and she giggled quietly, covering her mouth. The cheerleader looked far too happy as we stood opposite them, and I kinda underestimated that. Look, I know I'm the Joker's daughter, but even really happy people get me down.

"So you all wanna be cheerleaders, huh?" she asked, though it was rhetorical, and she continued before anyone could answer. "Well, you'll have to impress me and the girls here during our time tonight. But first, introductions. I'm Emily, as I'm sure you know, and I've been cheering for four years."

"I'm Amelia, I've been cheering for two years now." the next one announced.

"Hi, my name is Ciscandra, and I've been cheering for three years." the third added, beaming so hard that I was sure her cheeks might tear.

Emily clasped her hands together. "So today we want you to try and learn our routine, so you can show it back to us in the end, and then me and the ladies," She gestured to Ciscandra and Amelia. "Can decide who makes the cut. We're only taking on two more members, so you'll really have to try and stand out!"

Ciscandra walked over to a boom box and switched it on, so a popular song I should probably know, began blaring.

"One and a two and a three!" Emily exclaimed, as the three cheerleaders jumped straight into their routine. It was a mixture of dancing, stunting, and a part at the end where one could show off, for lack of a better phase.

I watched them intently, and when it came to the second playing of the song, where the tryouts and cheerleaders were trying the routine together, I gave it everything I had. Not only was I striving to succeed for dignity's sake, but I needed to get on the team if I could get close to Emily, and get that damn digital key. Maybe a bit of that inherited plant toxin strength would come in handy.

When it came to the tumbling part, I was a little worried. Unlike other girls my age, and my mother actually, I hadn't been to gymnastics at any point of my life, and this meant that I wasn't entirely confident in doing flips. With my mom, we didn't have much money after my grandparents died, and so I had to choose one club I could go to. It was either gymnastics or mixed martial arts, as as I wanted to be a ninja at that age, I obviously picked the fighting option. Sure the other kids and I fucked around sometimes and tried to do cartwheels and backflips, but they were never the neatest. And neat is exactly what you needed to be to be a good cheerleader.

However, I was quite a good learner, and as the cheerleaders explained how to do certain moves, and then showed us an example, I found myself doing them quite well. They still weren't perfect, as I was quite violent with my firing off, and my landings were heavy. At least that was what Ciscandra kept saying, anticipating my every move. When I had told her I had never done cheering or tumbling before, she gave a sigh, and told me I was throwing myself in the deep end.

In fact she kept showing off during her explanation of the routine, adding new stuff at the end and saying whilst I didn't have to do it, a real cheerleader would have no problem with it.

I ignored her, just getting the simple stuff down. If I wanted to try break my neck by trying the big moves, then I'd do them at the end, just so she could eat her fucking words.

Violet didn't seem to have much of a problem with the moves either, actually she executed them far better and far more graceful than I was. Throughout - however - she had a look of utter boredom which showed she'd much rather be doing something else. Which wasn't exactly what they were looking for in a cheerleader.

"I hope you know I'm only here for you." Violet started, as strands of hair fell down from the restraint of her hair tie. She readjusted it.

I laughed, cracking my neck and cartwheeling again. "You don't say, Vi. Wanna get some fries after this, like as thanks for coming?" I replied.

She smiled. "I'd like that, you're gonna be paying." she responded, grinning.

I smiled back at her, about to say something, before we were cut off by Amelia. "Violet Simpson? I thought it was you, how funny to see you here." she chuckled, looking her up and down. "You haven't changed a bit."

Violet's face was serious. "Neither have you. If you've come to gloat, there's no point, I don't wanna be back on your stupid team anyway."

I scrunched up my eyes. "Vi, you were on the cheerleading team? You could have said."

She scoffed. "I was on the team way back in freshman and sophomore year, I didn't feel like it was important."

"Before she was dropped." Amelia added.

Violet glared at her. "I quit after you and your friends started mocking me for liking girls. You graffitied 'Violet S is a dyke' over a school wall where you knew it could be seen from cheer practise!"

Amelia sighed. "It's just the hardships that follow cheerleading really. And hey you could have been perving on the other girls in the changing room, so I felt I was doing some good." She turned to me so that her back turned to Violet. "I hope you get on the team so you can drop this dumb friend of yours."

And with those words she walked back to her friends, and I shot Violet a 'what the fuck' look. She threw it right back at me.

"Okay ladies!" Emily called to the group. "Now is the time for you to one at a time show us how much you wanna be on the team! Mia, you're up."

Mia was first, Violet was second, another girl was third, I was fourth and the last girl was fifth. One by one they bust out the routine, none of them perfect, but they gave their all. This excluded Violet of course, who knocked herself down a bit, so that she was doing worse than she could actually do, but not so low that she made a fool of herself.

When it came to me, I was already sick of that stupid song, but I put on my best cheer smile, and burst into the moves. Mine certainly weren't perfect, and I nearly stumbled at a certain point, but they it got to the two minute mark, where we were allowed to freestyle the moves basically. Now my smile was real, as I imagined I was a kid again at my martial arts class, with all the other kids. One in particular kept trying to spar with me, though I think he just had a crush on me. Notwithstanding I imagined him, the slightly older boy, that kept trying to fight with me, but then he morphed into the image of my father, that day when we'd fought.

I brought my fists to face height to protect my head, and dodged his imaginary attacks. To onlookers I may have looked mad as I sent a double flying kick in to thin air, but to me it felt real, and I was sending it into his skull. He lunged at me but I was too quick, launching into a double handspring, though I was completely unaware. I was also unaware of the tucked forward flip I performed, as I swerved out of the way of my dad's kick. Being quite flexible, I hit a crescent kick into him, before jumping onto the other leg and kicking it up. The music finished, and I was left there on the field, with my leg in the air, a little confused.

The three girls clapped, Emily more enthusiastically than the others, and I slowly lowered my leg and stood back in my place. Ciscandra was gawking at me, and had to physically close her mouth as I moved - maybe she did actually eat her words.

"Endah?" she called, and the last girl stood forward.

She was very graceful about it all, very obviously from a ballet background, albeit anything might seem gentle about me kicking at the air. The girl finished with a flip, and the cheerleaders clapped once again as she stood back in place.

"That was wonderful, girls, but remember - we can only choose two. Me and the others will now deliberate, so... chat between yourselves in the meantime." Emily explained, the three cheerleaders and the coach congregating together.

I grumbled and turned to Violet. "If I didn't have to do this, then I'd totally admit you were right. This was a kinda waste." I sighed, so only us two could here.

Violet sighed in turn. "I did say. But you were actually really good, I got goosebumps dude! All those flips and turns really came out of nowhere!" she hissed, though in a friendly nature.

I laughed. "I'll certainly feel it in the morning." I joked.

Before she could reply, Emily cut us all off with her far too happy, sing-song tune. "So the three of us and Coach Duke have decided that we will take on..." She was speaking way too slowly for my liking in an effort to build up suspense, but it just came across like she was talking to children. "Endah, Daisy, please step forward!"

For a second I thought I hadn't made the team, until I remembered I was in fact called Daisy. I clutched my mouth, playing off how shocked and oh so happy I was, but in a more cutesy tame way, like a girl having her boyfriend propose to her.

Emily gave us a big grin, and patted us on the shoulder. "Congrats, girlies, you get to be a part of the Gotham Knights cheerleading squad! If you give me your numbers we can keep in touch, and I text you if there's any new arrangements for practise next week. Okay? Great!"

I simply beamed back at her, exchanging my number, and laughing lightly at her stupid jokes. Part one of the plan: complete.


	17. planning

'daisy im havin a prty at mine 2morrow. u wanna cum?'

After only three weeks of texting Emily and hanging around her and her brainless group of friends, I'd finally gotten an opportunity. I'd sat smiling at my phone for at least an hour after I'd gotten the message, just so pleased about how well this was mapping out.

'id luv 2, thnx'

Of course I hadn't even planned out how to get the key from their computer, or how I would do it without anyone seeing me. It was bound to be password protected, and even more security on top of that if I was lucky. I wasn't even sneaky, so knowing me, I'd fall over or make a loud noise, attracting everyone to my location.

Oh god what if I did get caught? It was a federal crime to steal people's information, and the victim of this would be the police commissioner, so it wasn't like he was going to go easy on me.

I groaned, grabbing my phone again and tapping on the group chat of Violet, Luka and I. Could you really call it a group chat if it was only three people? Nevertheless, I started typing.

M: anyone free?

V: yeah, no one can come over to mine tho - Ivy's cleaning and wants me out

L: i'm free

V: ooh can we come to yours? I wanna see your mom

L: why do you love my ma so much?

V: she's adorable

M: lmao

V: please?

L: ugh fine

I smiled, tossing on a jacket, and tucking my phone and some money for the journey in my pocket.

"Daaad! I'm going out!" I called as I walked through the corridors, to my dad, who was in one of the nearby rooms.

He exited from one, and stood in the doorway in only his yellow shirt and a pair of grey pyjama bottoms. It looked as if he was in the process of shaving, as half of his face was still covered in foam, and he had a towel on his shoulder. I'd learnt over my time here, that even though the Joker was a big scary dude, and a murderous dude at that, he still performed the most mundane of activities like shaving and brushing his teeth.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, annoyed, though I couldn't really take him seriously with the foam on his face.

"Oh, I'm meeting up with my school friends, I'll take the subway. That isn't bad is it?" I replied, trying to sound sweet but calm. Fighting and arguing with him wouldn't help anything, he might just end up locking me away in a tower or something.

"How long would you be gone for?"

I chewed my lip, thinking. "Maybe a couple hours? I can get food while I'm out, if needs be." My feet wanted to be off but I stood my ground. As I saw his face remain quite stiff, I continued. "I'll get you one of those Mr Fluff bars you like."

A grin lit up his face, and he approached me. "Oh, you do know me well," he chuckled, buttoning up my jacket like I was a child. "Now get going before I change my mind, hooligan." He laughed as he clipped the back of my head, and I immediately took off running.

"Thanks, dad, byeeee! I love you!" I replied, loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." he retorted, shaking his head and going back in to finish shaving.

If you wanted to get around in Gotham, there were several ways you could go about it. The city was large, though not as large as a place like New York, albeit Gotham had an underpass and an overpass to quickly get from one end of the city to the other. There were buses, though traffic was fairly busy here, and so passing on roads wasn't the easiest thing.

There were no subways or underpasses in Baltimore, however I seemed to be getting the hang of it quite well. I scanned my prepaid card and the rotating doors let me pass, as I continued walking down the long echoing tunnels. The walls were covered in graffiti, and I noticed a lot of it was of the Batman, some of it being years old, and some of it like it was done last week or so. There was even a crude picture of him etched into one of the bars on the subway car, which I sat next to.

He really was at the forefront of more people's minds in Gotham, even if he wasn't as in his prime as he used to be. When he first began, possibly twenty three or so years ago, he was alone, though I wasn't old enough to have witnessed him on that first news story, when the reporter slammed him and told the viewers that Gotham didn't need a crazed vigilante in a bat suit.

But now he was full formed, and though he may have been getting older, Batman still had his 'bat-family' to do jobs with him. I'd lost count of how many Robins and Batgirls there had been.

Luka lived not far from Gotham Academy, and so he was able to walk to school every day. Not that he liked that.

The David family had lost the key to the front door, and so I entered through the side door, and then through a curtain of beads, which acted as another door.

"Ah, another of Tuamanguluka's friends, right this way," a dark skinned woman said, gesturing in the next room.

I thanked her and I walked in, seeing Luka and Violet sat on the floor. I soon join them, but frowned as Luka gave me a questionable look.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head.

He relaxed his face. "You look different without makeup." he replied casually.

I hadn't wore any of the makeup I usually wore to school, and so my face now all sort of blended into the same shade of white. "Nice day to you too." I joked, sarcastically.

"Hello, pretty girls, I brought you some snacks," his mother greeted, and I turned to see her holding a tray. She bent over and placed it between us, before turning to go.

"Thank you, Mrs David!" Violet thanked, and picked up a big fat cake, and stuffed it in her mouth.

"Emily invited me over," I explained, quickly, a grin forming once again as I did.

Violet beamed with a mouth full of fat cakes. "That's great! Is it like a slumber party?"

I rested my head on my fist. "She said it was a party, no damn clue what that means. Could be anything from a small get together to a break the floors, music blazing party."

"The Gordons are a pretty chill family, I doubt it'll be a music blazing party." Luka added.

I shrugged. "Emily seems chill, but she's utterly walked over by her friends. She may be cheer captain, but the deputy captains seem to be the ones pulling the strings, if you get what I mean. And those girls are viscous, man. I spent weeks hanging out with them and following their moves, and by week two I felt like I was losing myself, like I was getting slowly sucked into this void or fucking black hole of vapidness." I put my head in my hands, but grabbed a fat cake and ate the whole thing in a go, feeling the delicious fried snack go down my throat. I felt like I really deserved it, after all the talk of diets and whether or not becoming bulimic would be cool.

Violet punched my arm. "But you made it through, didn't you girlie? And we can move onto the next phase of the plan."

I looked up urgently. "About that... how am I supposed to get onto his computer? It's not like he's a moron, and I wouldn't blame him for tripling the security if he knew Emily's friends were coming over."

Luka clicked his fingers, as if something had just slipped back to the forefront of his mind. "Jupiter." he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Wait here a second, I need to fetch something." He proceeded to run urgently upstairs, most likely to his room.

Violet and I shared a confused look. A minute later we heard the slamming of footsteps against wooden floor, as he raced back downstairs. He appeared with a small usb, which he quickly hid behind his back when he saw his mom coming.

"Tua, what the hell have I told you about running on the stairs? You better hope you break a leg falling before I break it for you!" she snapped, and he sighed back at her.

"Sorry, ma, I'll know not to do it next time." he replied, as if he had said the same line a million times before. She left, shaking her head, and he sat down with us once again. He held up the usb stick, that had a series of numbers and letters written in sharpie on the side. "This is Jupiter, something I've been working on for a few weeks now."

Violet tilted her head. "Why is it called Jupiter?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Because it's the fifth version I've made so far, the only successful one, and Jupiter is the fifth closest planet to the Sun in our galaxy."

She scrunched up her nose. "What if you made more than eight versions?"

His face narrowed into a glare. "I wouldn't need to make more than eight versions, I thought you'd be a little more confident in my skills."

Violet held her hands up, but bit her tongue to stop her from giggling.

"So what does it do?" I inquired, trying to break the tension.

He turned to me instead of Violet. "Well simple enough, it's an override. You plug this into any computer, and it'll penetrate the computers systems, making it think you've entered the login details, when you actually haven't. With this version, I finally managed to make it so it doesn't give the computer a virus, that was the issue with the last four versions."

He passed it to me, and I turned it over in my fingers. "Funny that such a small thing could be so powerful."


	18. emily gordon

The Gordons lived in a well furnished apartment in the south of Gotham in the Tricorner Yard estate, right on the shore.

To get to it, Luka - the only one out of the group that owned a car and could drive - drove me down, but dropped me off at the end of the bridge that lead onto Tricorner Island. This was mainly because Violet was in the car too, and she didn't want the other cheerleaders to spot her, as I had lied to Ciscandra saying that I wasn't friends with the former anymore, to try and get in her good graces. It was also because the two of them were going to hang around the estate for a while, and they didn't want Gordon identifying it as the car that dropped me off.

"You remember the plan?" Violet asked, as I leaned over and stuck my head through the door into the car.

I nodded. "Get into a situation where I'm alone with the computer, plug the override into it, and copy the key onto the pen drive. Easy as cake." I replied.

"Then discreetly send me a text, and I'll call you saying we're outside. Pretend I'm your auntie telling you your grandma has been rushed into hospital, and get the fuck out of there." she continued, and I gave her a big grin.

"Got it, the safeword will be... apron, or something." I replied, standing up straight and dusting off my short, pleated white skirt. Dad probably would have had a heart attack if he'd seen me go out in this, but I'd sneakily left the house in a hoodie and trousers, and got changed in Luka's car.

Now I kinda felt like a squeezed tube of toothpaste, with my pushed up tits and pinched in waisted skirt. Whatever, it was all necessary for the look I was going for - tastefully tarty... if that was a thing.

My trainers squeaked against the cheap tarmac road, as I wandered along it. The island was larger than I thought it would be, and a large amount was covered by living quarters. A small section also held an army base, and I was confused how people didn't just accidentally stumble in when walking in the dark. After a good five minutes of walking and turning back on myself, I found a small apartment block, 56 Tricorner Ave, and grinned.

I took the stairs up, as movies had taught me not to trust elevators, not even in upper middle class buildings like this. Hell, why did she even go to Gotham Academy? She could easily afford to have gone to another school, her dad was Commissioner!

I knocked on the door and it soon swung open to reveal the very tall Emily in jeans and a tank top, with her blonde hair let down by her shoulders. If I had been under any other circumstances, I might have thought she was really pretty.

"Daisy! Come in, come in." she greeted, letting me past. She was slightly more dialled down than when she was at cheerleading practise, but she was still quite perky and cheerful. Usually psychologists would say that she's so happy because she's hiding something very depressing. Either that or she's on drugs.

I gave her a quick smile and looked around the place. The walls were a soft beige, with grey fluffy carpets over the top of sleek wooden floors, probably what every other house looked like in this apartment block. What differentiated it was how it was covered in photos of the Gordon family. I approached one that was of what looked like Commissioner Gordon, Emily, and an older redheaded girl with glasses.

"That's my sister, Barbara." Emily explained, standing beside me as she lit one of the incense burners. Vanilla and cinnamon, it read on the label, along with a price tag that was way too high for my taste. She put it down beside the picture. "Well half sister, but that doesn't really matter when you're living together. Do you have any siblings, Daisy?"

I shook my head. "Always wanted one but my mom just didn't want another one." I replied. "She hated her siblings so she felt like she was sparing me from something."

She laughed. "I suppose she was right in some aspect, I used to steal a lot of Babs clothes and makeup, and I ruined a few of her shoes, if I can remember correctly. But then as a teen she used to lock me in a cupboard when she brought her boyfriend round, and I'd have to get dad to get me out." she continued, but seeing my horrified face, added: "It was a big cupboard."

I giggled and she laughed a little too until Amelia, Ciscandra and a girl named Kaytee entered from the other room, and our conversation was cut short.

"Dee-dee," Ciscandra spoke, using a name that she'd adopted during our brief time talking. "Nice to see you got here."

I waved in response, and Kaytee sighed. "So your dad isn't gonna be here all night?" she asked, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

Emily nodded. "He's at a Winter Ball the GCPD are holding, so he shouldn't be back until the early hours of tomorrow morning."

Kaytee grinned. "So could we bring boys over?"

The other girl put a hand on her hip. "I told you, no because you'll end up wrecking the place. And you don't wanna be kicked out of the friendship group like Alexandra, do you?"

"Alex was having sex with her boyfriend in your dad's double bed, me and Tom aren't that deranged! We could just cuddle and shit. You could invite Edward around too, so I don't see why you're so touchy about it." Kaytee continued.

"It might be a good idea." Amelia started, looking at the ground. "Maybe we could all watch a movie in the same room, and no couples are allowed to go off on their own, just so you know no one's doing anything?"

Emily sighed, scratching her head. "Do you have a boyfriend, Daisy?" she asked, turning to me.

I blushed. "Yeah, but he's back in Metropolis, where I moved here from, so I can't really call him round that easily." I stammered. Of course I'd told them I'd moved from Metropolis on a whim to stop them asking to many questions, and the night after I had researched the place so much I felt my eyes would roll out of my skull. I realised that the movie might be a perfect distraction to let me get the key. "But I don't mind if other people have their boyfriends over."

Kaycee flashed me a big grin. "What do you say, Em? Movie night?"

Emily crossed her arms, her bubbly facade crumbling a little, but she gave in. "Yeah, cool, as long as no one does anything."

"You sound like such a mom." Ciscandra laughed.

"A cool mom, though." Kaycee joined in, placing a quick kiss on Emily's temple, before walking past her. "I'll call the guys."

A little while later me, Emily, Ciscandra, Amelia and Kaycee, plus their boyfriends - whose names I didn't bother to learn - sat in the living room around the TV. One of the boys scrolled through the movies on Netflix until he came to what looked like a pretty generic horror movie, not like the classics like Scream or Child's Play. The sort that has a scary clown or nun or something, and throws in a few jumpscares.

That same boy turned off the lights, before cuddling up with Amelia. Great, tonight was gonna be one big cuddle fest.

I waited fifteen minutes before I excused myself to go to the toilet. No one really seemed to care, really being more interested in kissing than me or the movie, but that worked in my favour. I carefully wandered down the halls until I came to what looked like Commissioner Gordon's office, where I could make out a computer in the dark. My heart dropped as my hand gripped around the door handle, only to find it was locked. I hadn't anticipated any doors being locked.

Grabbing two pins from my hair, I attempted to pick the lock, as I'd taught myself when I was much younger, and bored at my grandparents' house. It took longer than I'd expected, and all that time my heart was pounding hard in my chest. The lock clicked and I practically rolled into the room, before shutting the door quickly but quietly behind me. I double checked I had the overload and the pen drive, and made my way over to the computer.

I didn't dare turn on the lights - it would draw too much attention - but I turned the computer on. Struggling a little in the dim light, I plugged the overdrive into the usb slot. The monitor flickered a little and then I was greeted by the desktop screen, a photo which depicted Emily and Barbara as young children, smiling cheekily with a lot of gaps. I didn't pause to admire it, I was too busy looking at the document in the top right corner simply labelled as 'Firewall bypass'. It was the right type of file as Luka at described, and it was just sitting there right in front of me. Perfect.

"Daisy?" I heard Emily's voice call, and I speedily switched off the monitor in case it was too much of a light source that would draw people over. I could see the shadow of her figure from through the window on the door, and I grew as still as a rock. "Where are you?"

"Babe, come back or you'll mess the best part!" a male voice sounded for her, most likely from the doorway of the living room.

"You know I hate horror movies, Eddie." she whined, and the shadow of a male figure appeared beside the female one. I daren't even breathe too loud in case they might hear me, and I grew gradually more aware of the light hum the computer was emitting.

"I'm sure you'd enjoy them more if I was holding you. Or more, if you want." he teased.

She paused, just as the thumping of my heart got more aggressive.

"You're so silly, Eddie." she sighed, the shadows getting closer.

"Come on, I'll make you something from the kitchen." he added, and she laughed. The footsteps faded away, and if I was stupid, I would have let out a big sigh of relief.

Instead I turned on the monitor again, and plugged the pen drive into the computer. My hands a little shaky from the close call, I copied the bypass onto the pen drive, double checked it was there, then pulled out the drive and the override, and switched the computer off. I stuffed the two drives into my pocket securely, and rushed over to the door. Cranking it open just a slit to see if anyone was nearby, I then slid out, and closed the door behind me. In a natural fashion I re entered the living room, and sat down in the seat I had before. No one turned to look at me, and for once in my measly life, I was glad I was being ignored.

To make sure I wasn't going out too often, I stayed until the movie was over. Whilst everyone was distracted by deciding what to put on next, I texted 'apron' to Violet.

True to her word, I got a call a minute later, and I excused myself once again.

"Hello? Auntie Joyce?" I called down the phone, being louder than necessary so I was sure people could hear. "I'm at Emily's, what's the bother?"

I could hear Violet laugh down the phone. "We're parked a block down, get here quick." she warned me, and I feigned shock.

"Oh my god that's awful? I thought she was getting better?" I replied. My poker face was certainly coming in handy now, as inside all I wanted to do was scream and cackle. I leaned around the doorframe. "Hey guys, I'll have to go - my grandma just had a stroke and I'll- I'll have to see her, y'know." I added a crackle to my voice to emulate how one's voice wavers when one is trying not to cry.

Emily gave me a sympathetic look. "Yeah that's fine, I'm really sorry about your grandma." she replied, whilst the others just talked to their significant other, or stared at the TV.

I gave her a thankful nod, and left calmly. Once I was out of the apartment block and rounded a corner, I bit my lip and laughed. I'd really done that shit.

Luka's car pulled in front of me, and I practically threw myself in it. We sped away, as we all hollered and laughed, almost in disbelief.


	19. christmas

December 25th had really snuck up on me.

I was too busy with the 'plan', that I'd completely forgotten about Christmas. Nevertheless it was the day today, and I couldn't be more happy. This morning I'd woken up thinking it was a normal day, to find a very large pine tree in the lounge, and I didn't take the time to question how it even got into the hideout, I immediately rushed over to it.

Under was a bunch of presents, all addressed to me. Oblivious to me, the Joker stood at the doorway and watched as I opened them, trying not to make much noise.

Under the gift wrap I found many things, as small as bath bombs and makeup, and as large as a pair of black combat boots. This also included a series of dresses, in cold shades of silver and blue. I did so love dresses, and the goons that went through my stuff had left most of them back in Baltimore. Most importantly, I opened a rather heavy present to reveal a black, rigged handle made out of some type of wood, as I could see the faint outlines of the rings in the part used. I pressed a part of it, and a very sharp metal blade flicked out from the top. On it there was an engraving which read: 'M, I hope you think of me when you use this, love Dad'

I flicked down the blade and hugged the handle to my chest. Hearing a hmph, I whipped around to see my dad standing there, slightly amused.

"Merry Christmas, darling." he thanked, and a grin lit up my face.

I pulled him into a tight hug; although I could feel the hesitation and him tensing up at first, he slowly relaxed and put his arms around me too. "Merry Christmas, dad." I giggled, planting my face on his chest. He hadn't wore aftershave, and so all I could smell was the cheap soap we owned.

I drew away after a while, beaming. "Thanks for the presents, I really am happy." Smiling like a fool, I sat back down among the presents. I picked up the knife, feeling the texture of the handle beneath my fingertips. "I don't think I've ever got this much before."

It was very much true - my grandparents got me a few presents but not very many each year, as they thought if they did the opposite then I might grow up to be spoilt. That was also why they detested my mom spending a load of money on me when she came to see me, though I clearly didn't turn out spoilt. I ended up preferring my mother, but that was just because she was more down to earth, and would do absolutely anything with me. Soccer, dress up or just messing about, she'd do it, and wouldn't go "oh Marceline you're gonna mess your dress up! Come back here and stop fooling about!"

However, once I moved in with my mom, she didn't have enough money to buy that much for me for Christmas. Not that I minded, just having her around cheered me up, and celebrating Christmas was always a blast. We used to have a neighbourhood celebration in someone's backyard, where I could play with the other kids, and my mom could have a laugh with the rest of the adults.

For other people it might not have seemed like Christmas, especially with the classic turkey and vegetables being replaced by people bringing food from their houses, such as rice and beans, and roast oxtail, as a large majority of the street was of Jamaican origin.

"My little girl deserves anything she wants." dad chuckled, smoothing my white hair back. "I know that other knife reminded you of Harley, but it was starting to get a bit... blunt. This one is the best of the best, and made just for slicing up people, if needs be."

He flicked the blade, and I observed how the light coming through the curtains reflected off the sleek metal. Getting up, he patted me on the back. "Now get ready and I'll take you along to the plant lady's place."

He left the room and I grinned. Violet had arranged that Luka and I could come over for Christmas, as my dad didn't want to organise a festive meal, and Luka's family was Muslim, and he didn't have anything to do until the 26th, when Kwanzaa would begin.

Returning to my room, I quickly cleaned up and put on one of the dresses I had been gifted, a thigh length blue dress with a small heart cut out in the chest, and pulled my new combat boots on also. They didn't really go together but I didn't care, grabbing my small handbag which had the most important thing in - the pen drive with the key on. I hadn't checked it yet as I was afraid that without Luka's help I'd end up accidentally deleting it or something.

The drive to the Toxic Acres was an odd one. My dad drove me there instead of one of the guys, so that was already out of place, but then he had tuned into a radio station that was playing Christmas songs none stop. He sang along, though changing the lyrics so they sounded silly, and smiled when I would laugh.

It was strangely... normal.

The way he drove was also very normal, as he didn't want to attract attention to the car, though I could see he was itching to put pedal to the metal. Once we got into the Toxic Acres estate he did turn the speed up, and we both screamed and hollered. He let out one of his signature laughs, which I had only really heard through the TV. It was wild and rough, and overshadowed my adrenaline fuelled giggles.

He didn't stop once we pulled up outside the Isley house, even when he saw Ivy standing outside with a firm expression. If anything it spurred me on.

"Merry Christmas, auntie Ivy!" I called, hopping out of the car a little dizzily.

"Merry Christmas, baby." she replied, smiling as she watched me come toward her, before glaring once again and my dad.

"No festive greeting for me, mulch breath? I'm hurt." he teased.

She folded her arms. "Several years ago, on a Christmas like this, you thought it would be funny to taint my most precious plant by... pissing on it. You know where you can stick your Christmas greeting." she answered, coldly. "Now get off my property before I feed you to the new Venus Flytrap hybrid I've been breeding."

He pulled a very overdramatic frown, but I quickly turned to Ivy. "Actually, auntie, I thought he could... erm... just could come in for a bit?" I asked, giving her big pleading eyes. "I'll make sure he behaves himself."

She stared down at me and into my eyes, and I noticed there was something unusual in them, as they glossed over my features and creased at the edges. "God, you look so much like her." she breathed, putting a hand on my face. "I just hope you have more control over him than she did."

Her hand pulled away, and she turned to him. "Fine, you can come in. But even breathe in the wrong way, and you're fertiliser. Understand?"

He grinned and came up to her to enter the house. "On my mother's grave." he joked, with a malicious smile. When I'd asked him in the car to join us for Christmas he was unsure, but now it seemed as if he was actually doing it because of how annoyed Ivy was by it.

The house was bare of any Christmas trees or mistletoe, instead being taken up by Ivy's usual exotic plants, which were found in almost every room. Looking around, it was also impossible to tell it was a significant day, but I kinda liked that. Christmas had never been straightforward for me. Odd was normal it seemed.

Violet and Luka were sat chatting away on the sofa, and smiled as I came over. Those smiles immediately moulded into shock as the Joker followed me into the room.

"Holy shit she wasn't joking." Luka murmured, referencing me saying my dad was the infamous Clown Prince of Crime.

"Vi, Luka, this is my dad, Dad this is-" I attempted to introduced, before my dad whipped out a loaded pistol. He aimed it at Luka.

"Marcie, you didn't say you had boys for friends." he hissed, his grip on the gun tight. "I bet you think you're really slick, grooming my daughter by pretending to be her friend. How long until you were going to try and make a move?"

"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, afraid and annoyed.

Luka held up his hands, his eyes wide. "I'm very sorry, sir, I don't have any interest in your daughter." he stammered out.

The other man raised an eyebrow. "So you think she's unattractive? I don't appreciate that, bub." There wasn't any way to win.

"Sir, I'm not into girls, I'm not into anyone really, so it's not personal!" he pleaded, though he was shaking.

"That's probably what you tell them so you can-" he snarled, before a vine snuck up his leg like a snake and wrapped itself tightly around the gun. It snatched it from his strong grip, and pulled it back down his leg and behind him, to where Ivy was standing.

"He's telling the truth, you idiot." Ivy grumbled, tucking the gun away and shoving past him. "Luka is immune to my pheromones so he doesn't get turned on by women at all. That's why I know I can trust him with Violet." She shot him one of the dirtiest looks I'd ever seen. "Now you've blown the one chance I said I'd give you. Get. The fuck. Out."

Luka slouched over and held a hand to his heart, trying to calm himself down. Violet placed a hand on his arm, and I crouched down next to him, checking he wasn't going to have a panic attack.

Dad gave a hmph, then turned on his heel and left through the front door. It looked as if we wouldn't be getting any apologies, and I didn't dare to ask him for one.

"Merry Christmas?" I murmured, an unsure half smile on my mouth.

Luka gave me a serious look, but he soon dropped it and flashed me a cheesy grin. "I think I'm the only person to have the Joker point a gun at my face and not die."

Violet laughed. "There's still eleven hours left of the day, so you'll just have to wait and see."

He playfully pushed her. "Shut up, man. Pfft I guess I shouldn't have wished to meet the Joker after all. I was gonna piss myself."

I giggled, but fished a hand in my bag and brought out the drive. "I got it with me. Wanna have a look?"

Violet shrugged, smiling goofily. "I do have a computer upstairs that is just waiting to be tracked by the FBI."

Luka rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "I told you - we won't be tracked. And fuck it, let's have a look, I definitely haven't had enough excitement for today."

Violet's computer was a slightly old model, and the outside was covered in stickers of random Japanese animal icons, such as Doraemon. She booted it up, and I mentally sniggered to see the desktop background was a picture of a thirteen year old of Luka and her. The latter had thick metal braces which she showed off in a big toothy smile, and the former looked miserable as he looked into the camera, very aware of the bunny ears Violet was throwing above his black afro.

"I can't believe you haven't changed that in like five years." Luka commented, a little peeved.

She smiled, putting the pen drive in. "Don't fix something that isn't broken, as the saying goes." she replied.

We all looked at the computer as Violet handed the mouse to Luka. He dragged the copy onto the desktop, so it was on the computer instead of the pen drive. Then he proceeded to do something I didn't really understand, which involves making the computer recognise the file as something it has to use, so the key becomes part of the system, or something just as convoluted.

"Now we just go onto the FBI website, and it should automatically read the key on our computer." Luka explained, just as the FBI page loaded. It indeed was a completely different homepage to the one we had gotten before, and he grinned, before using the same technique as he had used on the BPD website, and hacking into the interface. The keys seemed to be unique for each person, and so when he was done the words at the corner of the screen read 'welcome James Gordon'.

"It feels gross reading something meant for someone else like that." Violet murmured, tilting her head and scrunching up her eyes.

Nevertheless I searched Jude Doe once again, and clicked on the most recent report, which was dated a week ago.

Case no. 0853

Original officer Detective H Ramirez

Taken over by Detective M Moore

Details: No body that pathologists could do hands on tests on, photos of body showed that a generic sledgehammer was used, dead lead. House has been empty for months so another scan of crime scene was conducted, detectives found half prints that lead to the arrest of a Gotham citizen, Carl Kristoff. Wouldn't reveal the details of who set the hit or what happened, only that a man named Happy killed the victim with the hammer. Happy, real identity unknown, also a Gotham citizen. Assumed to have returned to GC, possibly with victim's daughter, sending officers from Philadelphia branch to investigate.

I glared at the screen. "Happy, that's the guy who killed her, huh?" I muttered. I turned to look at the other two. "Where do the criminals meet around here?"

Violet's brow creased in worry. "Please don't go doing anything rash, Leenie baby. They've got people in Gotham looking for you, and him too so maybe just leave it to the police?" she murmured in reply.

My hands balled into fists. "Vi, I need to find this guy, before he hurts anyone else, please just give me a place."

She stared into my eyes, but sighed. "The Stacked Deck is the main one, all the nasty sorts go there."

I didn't smile, but nodded. "Thank you."

"If you're gonna go then wait until tonight and I can come with you, make sure you're safe? In the mean time you can enjoy a nice Christmas with your two pals Luka and Violet." she added. Luka nodded in agreement.

I exhaled loudly and relaxed my fists. "Okay."

Violet gave me a big smile, and rested her head on my shoulder. "Now come on, I'm sure mom is wondering where we've got to." The three of us got up from the computer and returned downstairs to the warm smile of Ivy.

I gave her one in return but it was hollow, all of my energy being focused onto this man that killed my mother. A bastard called Happy.


	20. the stacked deck

We finally arrived at the Stacked Deck, an old warehouse type building, with a neon sign hanging from above the door, though most of the letters had long since gone out. It was very noticeably in the Red Light District, with hookers and done up women hanging around outside it, and men leering over them. It made me very self conscious of the fact I was still in my new dress, just with a hoodie thrown on top of it.

Violet wrung her hands, as her eyes darted from person to person. "I know I agreed to come with you, but I still don't think this is a good idea." she murmured, her voice beginning to shake.

I patted her arm, my face free from nerves, albeit I was slightly on edge. "It's fine, Vi, they're all just men too big for their boots. Just don't approach them or make eye contact and we'll can be on our way, once we find Happy of course." I replied, giving her a big smile.

She stared into my eyes but shook her head. "We should go back, I could get my mom to help us out, that'll be a lot safer. Please, dude, we shouldn't be here." she responded, holding onto my arm, and trying to pull me in the opposite direction.

She was strong but I stood my ground. "I'm not going - this Happy guy killed my mom. He needs to pay, and your mom is Poison Ivy, who is pretty recognisable. So if he was in there, he'd get a heads up and be out of there." I replied, shaking her off. "Now stop being a scaredy cat and let's go."

Her eyes began to water, and her long, delicate fingers balled up into fists. "I'm sick of you ordering me around, you're gonna get us killed! Is that what you want? I don't care how lovely your mother was, she's not worth getting killed over!"

My face grew cold like stone. "Yeah? Well at least you have a fucking mother! I have nothing! So just...grow up!" I growled, my lip twisting.

Violet stared back at me hurt, and the tears began to fall, pinching her brown face a peachy pink. She held up her hands to hide her face, and the sounds of muffled light sobbing came from her covered mouth, getting distorted as she turned and ran the other way.

"Violet!" I called after her, mostly angry at her, but somewhere in there I felt guilt.

She didn't respond to me, continuing down the dark streets until she was no longer visible. I looked from where she was to the entrance of the bar, and back, and swore quietly to myself.

"She'll be alright," I reassured myself, hands in my pockets, as I entered the Stacked Deck.

The place had an aroma of whisky and the smell of cigarettes. There was a sign that said that people were prohibited from smoking in here, but I guess it was going unnoticed.

There was a pool table in the centre of the room, a bar to the right, and sofas in each corner. I wasn't sure about other nights, but tonight it was packed with people, mostly hard faced men, and it just made me pull up my hoodie further. I didn't need any unwanted advances. Just in case, I sat in the far corner of the room on a sofa - which had certainly seen better days - which kept me out of the limelight, and was a perfect spot to survey anyone coming in and out of the bar.

I sat there for a while, my eyes scrutinising every inch of this dingy bar, until I couldn't smell the odor of alcohol and smoke anymore.

"Stare any harder and I think you'll pop a blood vessel." spoke the voice of an articulate male Gothamite.

Turning to my left, I found it came from a long, lean man, with a smile on his thin lips. He was a rather sickly looking pale fellow, with pitch black eyes and purple rings underneath them, but yet there was something so charming about that. He certainly sat down next to me like a healthy man, strands of his black shaggy hair falling out of his ponytail as he did.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my hand deep in my pocket, and clenched tight around the knife I had only just gotten this morning.

He lay back, putting an arm around the back of the sofa. "I'm just saying, you look very concentrated." he replied, calmly.

I gave him no more than a serious glance. "I'm looking for someone."

He gave a sort of sigh, and sat up straight. "I could help you. I'm what you would call, familiar with these kinds of people."

I chewed my lip, but turned towards him. "I don't have much to go on, just that it's a guy called Happy, and so I assumed he might be at this bar. Being a criminal and all." I explained, using my hands to emphasise my words. There really wasn't much to go on.

The man laughed a little. "Well, what a coincidence! My alias is Happy, what's it to you?" he replied, aloof, and completely unaware of what was in store for him.

I sat still as my heart dropped to my toes. The man who had a hand in killing my mother, right here in front of me, probably armed to the teeth but I'd take my chances. Evil Marceline sat on my shoulder, and betted I could pop out his eyes before he could get a bullet in.

That was all the encouragement I needed.

As slick as a wild cat I pounced on him with all the force I could give, and clawed away at his neck and face. His surprised yell mixed in with my furious screams, until people in the bar looked our way. In other bars they might stop us, but in this one they either stopped and stared, or went back to drinking.

"You killed my mother, you sick fuck!" I swore, not wanting to risk the time it would take for me to grab my knife, and so pound him with my fists and nails instead. "She was defenceless in her own home, and you murdered her!"

"You've got the wrong guy, sweetheart!" he retorted. He grabbed my wrists, and threw me off of him, so my back slammed against the sofa. "I don't kill people in their own homes!" Soon enough he was on me again, just trying to pin me still so I couldn't attack him, but also so I could take him seriously. Maybe I was gonna lose that dare after all.

"But you're Happy," I snapped, but lowered my tone so we weren't yelling anymore. "They said Happy killed my mother, I thought I finally found you."

He sighed. "There's a lot of guys around here that are called Happy." he replied, his voice much softer, with a hint of understanding. He turned to look at the people still watching and glared, as if to silently tell them to mind their own business; he then turned back to me. "Do you want a drink, seen as it's Christmas?"

I wasn't old enough to drink, but it didn't matter. "A Bloody Mary."

He smirked, letting me go. "Very fitting."

-

"You did a number on me back there, you know." he spoke, as we sat there a little later with our drinks. He had plain whiskey, and nursed it as he felt the numerous scratches I'd dealt to his face and neck.

I folded my brow. "Sorry, I thought you were the guy that killed my mom." I had pulled down my hood, and now my white hair flowed out onto my black hoodie, creating quite the contrast.

He laughed. "I have a lot of people trying to kill me, you weren't the first and you won't be the last. They're usually desperate men, though, you're a nice change. Best Christmas present I ever got."

I smiled. "You must get pretty lousy Christmas presents then." I joked. Taking a pause, I looked around the place, not lingering on any specific person, but noticing the frowns as people drank. "God it's a miserable peanut gallery in here - you look like the happiest guy in a mile radius. Could that be why they call you Happy?"

He swigged the last of his drink, as I slowly slipped mine. "I'm usually one of the miserable bunch, but I just got off a successful job. But no. When I was first starting out, I used to bump off people for their spouses when they thought they were cheating. I'd have to follow them, catch them in the act and then cut their lives short. But the guys I met in the bar used to joke that the cheating partner died happy, being midway through sex."

"Oh, wow," I sniggered, running my finger around the top of my glass. "And so you are a killer?"

"Top in this side of the States, if you don't count Deadshot that is. But word is that he retired a few months ago, which means more jobs for me, and more targets on my back."

I smiled. "That's a hefty statement, from who, might I ask?"

He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other fluidly. "Victor Donald Yaworsky, but you can just call me Victor. Or whatever you like really."

"Marceline Quinzel." I replied, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. I'd never really used my proper name before, and it felt kinda... good. Like I was saying a dirty word, but I was allowed to.

He raised an eyebrow. "Pretty name. Do your friends call you Marcie?"

The blush disappeared from my cheeks, and my throat grew dry. My friends, oh god, I'd forgotten about poor Violet! Oh I felt awful, the Narrows at night was no place for a woman, especially an unaccompanied one.

"Shit," I swore, putting down my drink and getting up quickly. "I'm sorry, I need to go, I need to find Violet-"

"Violet?"

"My friend, we came here together but she didn't want to come in, oh shit." I darted toward the door, bursting out into the night. I was surprised to see that Victor followed me.

"Which way did she go?" he asked, and I pointed in the general direction.

He sped off and I kept up the pace behind him, urgently looking down every alley. "She's got big red hair, and she's just an inch or two taller than me, and I think she's mixed black and white..." I stammered, my heart beating fast than it ever had.

"Her?" he asked, as we turned to find ourselves on the docks.

There were four men, all surrounding a much more innocent girl, which I instantly recognised as her. My heart dropped and I ran over, yelling and screaming. "Violet! You better step the fuck away from her you motherfuckers!" I screeched, grabbing my pocket knife and flicking it out in an instant. The moon hit the blade and danced as I twirled the handle.

"Oh, come join the party, to-" one man started, before he was silenced with a gunshot to the glabella.

The other men couldn't react fast enough, and were all put down for good with precise bullets straight through the centre of their foreheads. They flopped to the ground like a sack of bricks, as Violet gave a shrill, short scream. I stopped a second to gawk at what had just occurred, but I quickly ran over to Violet, cradling her in my arms and holding her close to me.

"I'm so sorry, Vi, I should have listened to you... fuck I could have lost you because of my stupidity." I breathed, smoothing her hair back. "In-in the future I swear I'm never gonna doubt you, I'm not gonna bully you anymore-"

"You stupid idiot," she bawled, and her tears soaked through the shoulder of my hoodie. She held me close and I felt tears come to my own eyes, though before everything went blurry, I looked up at the serious figure of Victor. I gave him a thankful smile.


	21. the morning after

Violet stirring broke me out of my light sleep.

Well actually, it hardly need to, as I hadn't been able to fall into a deep sleep all night, as I was worried about her. She'd struggled at first too, but I'd stroked her face and her breathing slowly become more and more calm, until she drifted off. Usually I'd mind being depraved of sleep, but I didn't really matter right now, all that mattered was her.

After Victor had dropped us off at Violet's house, I hadn't left her side, not for the whole night, and not even to tell my dad where I was. I figured that he'd probably assume I was at Ivy's so there'd be no harm done. I'd briefly slept on the floor next to her bed, but I'd sat next to her most of the time, looking down at her delicate features with a frown on my face.

My stubbornness had nearly got her hurt, or worse even, killed. I'd always been stubborn and fairly selfish, ever since I was younger, I just had even more stubborn relatives that kept me in check. However now I didn't have that, and I could see how I'd been bossing Violet around, and pushing her past her comfort zone. I'd just felt like what I needed - such as finding this man - was more important than her feelings. We'd only been friends for under two months, but I was already turning out to be toxic. Sure, she could be clingy and overprotective, but I was the one putting everyone in danger.

"Mmph?" Violet murmured incoherently, as she sleepily sat up in bed, her many pillows supporting her back. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Morning, pal, you doing any better?" I asked, my voice gentle.

Her eyes were half shut and squinting as she looked over at me. "Leenie... you stayed the whole night." she replied, softly.

I gave her a comforting smile. "Of course I did, I needed to make sure you were alright." I answered, my voice a little rough from thirst.

"Apology accepted." she stated, pulling the covers closer around her. She'd changed into her pink pyjamas before she went to bed, but they were thin and the weather was quite cold. Unfortunately it hadn't snowed yet.

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You were feeling bad, I could tell. So I forgive you." She smiled with her eyes.

I simpered. "Pfft, thanks." I laughed. "If you'd have been wrong then I would have been quite offended."

"I can read you like a book, dude, so I'm never wrong. And right now you want coffee, correct?"

I rolled my eyes. "Now you're showing off; yes, I'd love one." I tried to get up but she quickly scrambled over and stopped me.

"Oh no, I'll get it, you've done enough good, and I'm gonna make it up to you."

I sighed. "I haven't done anything good for you, if anything, you should be thanking the guy who shot those men - Victor."

"I meant just being my friend in general. Getting me out of the house, showing interest in the things I like. I appreciate it."

I creased my brow. "That's just what friends do. And you're my friend."

She hmphed, looking at her feet. "And friends make each other coffee, so that's what I'm gonna do."

She left the room to go downstairs to the kitchen, and I was left alone with my thoughts. I'd had lots of friends over the years, most of them being kids from my street, but never one quite as interesting as Violet. She was quite literally the opposite of me, and yet we fit in so many ways. Like two adjacent pieces of a jigsaw.

Soon she was back, and I gave her a thankful look as the warm cup entered my hands. I sighed happily, and pulled it up to my mouth.

"Can I talk to you about something? Like a serious talk." she murmured, staring at something just to the side of me instead of in my eyes.

"Yeah, absolutely." I replied, my voice light.

She paused before she had even started. "You said 'at least you have a mom', and you were half right - Ivy kinda is my adoptive mother. But my real parents are long dead."

I stayed silent, not wanting to disturb her, albeit my eyes probed her to continue.

"My mom died when I was very young of something I still can't remember. And my dad, well he was crushed by falling debris during the earthquake seven years ago. I was eleven, and I watched my father die right in front of me."

"I'm sorry for your losses." I murmured.

Her eyes grew glassy with tears. "You don't have to be. If they hadn't died, I might not have been here today." She tipped her head forward. "You see, I had a rare degenerative tissue condition, which meant I struggled to walk without crutches, and most of the time I was in a wheelchair. I ended up being trapped in No Mans Land as I couldn't physically walk, until I was found by some other kids. They told me that I'd be safe with them in the Botanical Gardens."

My eyes widened slightly, and I put down my coffee. "And that's how you found Poison Ivy?"

She looked at me for the first time in minutes, but nodded. "She took me and the rest of the kids in, and protected us from harm. Those siblings I talked about, they were the other orphans. We were like a family."

I frowned. "But you said that she couldn't stand to look at them anymore, only you."

She sighed, pushing her copper hair back. "Long story short, some people that were trying to replicate Ivy's condition found us, and tried test after test on us. A lot of the orphans died of shock to their internal systems, but the ones that lived were allowed to leave. There were four of us, I was one of them."

"And the other three?"

"Suicide." She was blunt about it, and wiped away her tears. "I'm not sure what it was that brought them to it, but I suppose I've had the thought a few times in my life. And I suppose I should be glad - my life expectancy was sixteen when I was ill, but now I'm still here, cured of my condition because of evil scientist guys."

I gave her a bright smile, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for telling me, Vi."

She smiled back. "It's what friends do, Leenie."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Violet and I looked at each other.

"Are you expecting anyone?" I asked, curious.

She shook her head, and as I tried to peer out of the window, she pulled me back down to the bed. "Don't, they might be someone dangerous. We're pretty noticeable if we look out of the window, so it's better to just pretend no one's in the house."

We sat quietly, ducked under the window, waiting for something to happen.

"What happens if it's some kids that take the silence for the house being empty? They might come in." I murmured.

Violet paused. "We've luckily never gotten that but it's a fair point... I think mom would take care of them, though." she replied.

Kill them, she meant. Some poor kids get nosy and knock on the wrong door, and next second they were plant food.

"Hello?" a familiar, cocky voice called out. "Is anyone there?"

I scrunched up my nose. "Is that the guy from last night?" Curious, I opened the window and leaned out, to see it was of course him.

He was dressed in a slim fitting black turtleneck, with burgundy straight leg trousers, that were slightly too short for his long, thin legs.

"Victor?" I asked, so he could hear me.

He turned to look up at me and grinned. "I thought I'd gotten the wrong house. I hope you don't mind saying, this is a real weird area." he replied, scratching his neck.

"What are you doing here?" I queried, tilting my head.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to check up and see you were alright, I guess. When you said to drop you off here I thought it was a joke, but I suppose it wasn't..."

I felt Violet appear behind me and lean out the window too. She had a slightly cautious look plastered all over her face. "Thank you for last night, but you're gonna have to get out of here as fast as you can."

The man scrunched up his features. "What?"

"Just go before my mom sees you!"

He rolled his eyes. "You know if you wanted me to go, you could just tell me that straight out. But whatever I'm-" he started, beginning to walk away. However, before he could finish his sentence, vine-like organisms burst up from the ground and crept up his legs like a deadly snake. This restrained his legs, and he fell to the ground with a thud. He attempted to get away, but the plants had a strong grip on him, and he was dragged further toward the house, before being tipped upside down.

"And who is this walking bag of filth?" Ivy's voice sang, as she walked like a tiger toward her prey.

"I'm not really walking if I'm hung upside down, eh?" he replied, a little jokingly albeit mostly worry. "And listen lady, this bag of filth is about to throw up his liquid dinner, so I'd be really thankful if you put-"

The vines continued traversing his body from the bottom down, until they reached his throat. Violet and I watched in horror as they began to squeeze, and Victor gave gargled, choking noises in return.

"You have to do something about your mother, she's gonna kill him!" I pleaded, with worried eyes.

She looked just as nervous. "She hardly listens to me, especially when it comes to men. Luka was the odd one out..." she replied, chewing her lip. Nevertheless she jumped up off of the bed and raced out of the door, and I followed suit.

"We were doing well until you came." Ivy spoke, calmly. "We hadn't had unwanted visitors in years, and I thought there was really something special about this places, that just drove people away." She slid a finger over his pale, stubbled face. "Maybe I should hang you above the door to really keep people away."

Violet and I clattered downstairs and out of the front door, and I could hear my heart fluttering in my chest.

"Mom, stop! You can't kill him!" Violet begged, holding onto her arm.

She shrugged her off. "Sweetie, go back to your room, I'm just disposing of this waste."

My purple eyes met his black ones and I pitied him greatly. Unlike they were at the bar, this pair of eyes were panicked, and contemplating whether they'd wasted their life. I knew that look too well.

Violet narrowed her brow. "Please, mom!" was the last thing she could exclaim, before a vine snaked itself around her mouth, silencing her. Plants began to pull the two of us back inside, controlled by Ivy, and Violet began to cry muffled sobs.

I turned to her to try and console her, but noticed that as she cried, flowering vines snuck from out of her skin, in a way that made me cringe but also left me speechless. They grew from out of her, seemingly feeding on her strong emotions, and bulldozed Ivy's vines that were in their paths, including the one around her mouth.

"Mom!" she snapped, marching over to her, her small army of flowers following her steps.

Ivy turned around in surprise. "Violet I told you not to use that, you're not strong enough." she hissed in reply.

"Let him go, he's the man that saved my life." she retorted, sure of her words.

Her mother's eyes flickered a little and she pulled back her plants, so Victor once again smacked into the ground. He didn't have a smartass remark for this, he just sat there on the grass, massaging his now bruised neck.

Last night when Ivy had been concerned why we were so late, Violet had went straight to bed, but I had stayed behind to explain it to her. I'd mentioned that when walking from Robbinsville to when I lived, we'd been jumped by several men - Victor had saved us by shooting them. I didn't include the parts that might lead to more questions, such as why was Violet left alone, and why were we hanging around the Stacked Deck, a place known for being dangerous.

The older woman turned to look at him on the ground, and gave a blank look. "I'm thankful that you protected my daughter and her friend, but I'm afraid that's all you'll get from me."

"No kiss and make up?" he replied, though his voice was raspy from the cut off oxygen.

Ivy gave him no more attention, and returned back inside, her green army following her.

I offered out a hand and he took it, getting himself to his feet. His clothes now had some minor grass stains, though the bruise was the main catcher of the eye. He self consciously pulled up the neck of his shirt.

Violet looked at me, then turned toward him. "Why don't you come in for some tea, we have plenty."

He shrugged. "As long as I don't get attacked again, sure."

Without another word, the three of us headed back into the house.


	22. the morning after pt2

Violet returned to the table with a pot of herbal tea.

She poured it gently into three porcelain cups, and handed one to each of us.

"Thanks for saving me back there, I really thought I would die there and I was getting a bit edgy. Don't tell people that though, it would ruin my reputation." Victor spoke, sitting forward on his seat.

"I guess you're even now." I murmured, tracing a fingertip around the smooth rim of the cup. "You saved her from a bunch of thugs, she saved you from her mother."

"I guess so, yeah. Also I never would have guessed your mother was Poison Ivy, Violet, maybe because you're a normal colour and not unnaturally green."

Violet laughed. "Bet you're regretting bumping into me and Marceline then, we're nothing but trouble."

He shrugged as he hunched over his tea. "You only see to be trouble because of Ivy, and I think I've gotten off the hook with her. All I need to do is make sure I don't get on the wrong side of Marcie's parents, and I'm good to go."

I laughed, nervously. "I think you might find my dad way harder to please than Ivy."

He pushed his longish black hair back out of his face. "I'm a fountain of charisma, nothing is impossible, I'm sure. I'll be having drinks with him every Friday in no time."

I contemplated telling him about my dad, just so he really knew what he was talking about, but also so I could wipe the smile off of his face. However, it crossed my mind that him knowing might result in him running as far away as he could, and I couldn't risk that as he might be valuable in finding this Happy guy.

"So why did you actually come here, to talk about my dad?" I asked, crossing my legs and stiffening my face.

He took a sip of tea. "No, actually, I wanted to come see if Violet was okay..." he started, but I narrowed my eyes. I could easily tell when he was giving me bullshit. "...and I wanted to get your number."

Violet nearly choked on her tea, and gave me wide eyed look. I unnarrowed my eyes, and raised an eyebrow instead. "Why?"

"Because I'm fascinated by you."

I nearly burst out laughing, but kept my cool. What on earth was there to me to be fascinated about? Sure I looked unusual, and I was a bit blunt with my words, but it wasn't like I was stunningly beautiful or anything. I didn't float when I walked, like a supermodel, and I definitely didn't feel like one.

"And why should I give you it?"

"I'm an expert on criminals and those that frequent Gotham. Without me, you might never find Happy."

I exhaled loudly through my nose, staring him dead in the eyes. "Fine, but no funny stuff, or you're gone forever." I wrote out my number and handed it to him.

He grinned, taking it before holding out his hand. "Shake on it?"

I hesitated but took it. His grip was just a little too strong, but I didn't say anything, my face portraying boredom at best. When he released me, I placed my hand back on my lap. Violet was giving me wiggly eyebrows, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"Dude, do you happen to know anything about Carl Kristoff?" Violet queried, adjusting how she was sitting so she was a little more casual, and a little less feminine. "Just he was the guy that told the FBI about Happy, and it might tell us a bit more if we know who he's affiliated with."

"Carl Kristoff? God he's affiliated with lots of different gangs, even ones outside of Gotham. Simultaneously hated and necessary with each one of them. I won't ask how you got information from the FBI, but what did he tell them, if you know?" he replied, his eyes growing larger at the name, as if he hadn't heard the name in an eternity.

"He only told them the name of the guy, which is why I had so little to go on when I came to you." I answered, finishing my tea.

He scoffed. "Seriously? That's very unlike Kristoff - he's a renowned rat, he snitches on various gangs to others in order to get something in return. He possibly has the loosest lips in Gotham."

"If that's true, maybe he didn't say anything because he felt he wasn't getting anything out of it." Violet added.

He rested his head on his hands. "That's true, maybe he just needs some encouragement."

"If you're suggesting that we threaten this guy until he gives us more information, then I want no part." Violet murmured, smiling. "I've had enough excitement for a good few months."

Victor grinned. "That's fine, it just means that Marcie and I can spend a bit more time together, huh?"

"Gross," I sighed, pushing my hair back. "And now how are you even gonna talk to him? I thought he was in FBI custody."

He tapped his nose. "That's the part where my knowledge comes in - see, Kristoff is based in Gotham and is a known criminal that the GCPD has been trying to lock up for years, just they didn't have enough evidence. Now that the police have clear evidence that he was involved in a murder and passively helped by letting it occur, there's no way they'll be letting him free. They'll be sending him to Blackgate, though I doubt he'll be in there for long as some mob boss will probably pull some strings and get him out in less than a month."

I rested my head on my fist. "So how do we know whether he's in jail or not?"

"We could check the FBI page again?" Violet offered, a little unsure.

He grinned. "That could work. Lead the way, lady."

I rolled my eyes but the three of us headed upstairs. Just as Violet and I had passed into her bedroom, I shut the door right in Victor's face, so he couldn't enter too.

"Girls only, sorry man." I explained, smiling to himself. I heard him sigh on the other side of the door.

Violet quickly got to work, logging on the the computer and loading up the FBI page. The case about my mom was the same as before with no new updates, so she proceeded to type in the snitch's name, Carl Kristoff. This resulted in a hefty criminal record from years ago, which had a significant time gap to the record of his arrest not so long ago.

It looked as it he had been going straight until just recently, though if what Victor has said was true, Kristoff had just been picked up by gang leaders and mob bosses, who paid off the authorities so he couldn't be charged for his crimes. He was just unlucky enough this time to have been found at the scene of a more significant crime than money laundering and trafficking.

The details on his case were basically the same as on my mom's case, apart from the bottom paragraph.

Update - Kristoff has successfully been transported from secure unit in Philadelphia to SCU in Metropolis PD. He is detained and will be transported to Gotham City PD to stand trial. Boat from Metropolis expected to depart on December 31st at 6pm (EST). Transport will be waiting for arrival at Gotham Docks.

"How's it going in there?" Victor called, clearly annoyed that he was missing out on anything fun.

I opened the door and he fell backwards as he had been resting against it. He soon picked himself up and dusted off his clothes, which were still covered in grass stains.

"Kristoff is being sent by boat from Metropolis to Gotham Docks at 6pm on the 31st, before being driven to the GCPD to stand trial." I repeated from the computer.

He widened his eyes. "Trial? Wow they really are going all out." he replied, leaning against the doorframe. "But this is good, it means we can jump him at the docks when he's changing from boat to truck. It also means we don't have to blow the armoured truck open with C4 like I planned."

"C4? Holy crap."

He waved a hand. "It's like buying a slab of beef in Gotham, shit is ridiculously easy to buy for what it is."

I scrunched up my nose - Gotham really was a breeding ground for illegal stuff, all these really dangerous weapons were so easy to get a hold of. I was sure that if the US passed a new law that banned guns from people that weren't part of the authority, the people of Gotham would say fuck it and deal them anyway. That and kill the people that passed the law.

"So what's your plan, tough guy?" I asked, ready for anything. This guy always seemed to have some sort of plan, which clashed with my ideals, as I never made plans I just did things on a whim, and thought about the consequences when they arrived.

"So, it takes roughly three and a half hours to get from Metropolis to Gotham by boat, so if they set off at 6pm, they'll probably get here by 9:30pm. My plan is that you and I wait for the transport to get here, shoot them, maybe dress up in their uniforms, dump the bodies in the lake. Then when the boat gets here, we act like everything is normal, Kristoff gets in the back of the truck, then we drive off with him until we find a nice spot to interrogate him in. I have a personal favourite I'd like to show you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah that's great, text me the details. Now do you think you could leave the house? I don't think Ivy would like you staying this long, and especially not lingering around her daughter's bedroom."

He gave me a grin. "Sure, grumpy, I'll see you at 8:30pm at the docks on the 31st. An hour early just in case the time is inaccurate, not because I want to talk to you or anything-"

I slammed the door in his face.

"Oooooh." Violet teased, as I turned back to look at her on the bed. "Looks like someone has a crush on you!"

"I don't wanna be flirted with, I just wanna be left alone." I grumbled, sitting beside her.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Because your body language tells a very different story. You know, I think you actually like him, but you just don't wanna like him, that's your problem."

I gave her a look. "Maybe you're just saying that because you like him."

She burst out laughing. "As if! I told you - I only like girls. His ponytail might make him look a little feminine, but the stubble is an absolutely masculine trait. I mean, not that I'd reject a girl just because she had a beard..."

"What are you trying to get at?" I laughed.

She sighed. "I'm saying, you might be in love, and not just with a stupid high school boy. That's a really cool thing."

I scoffed. "Violet, head my words well. It'll be a cool day in hell when Marceline Quinzel falls in love."


	23. shooting range

"Dad, can you teach me how to shoot?"

The words had fallen out of my mouth one morning over breakfast, the only time I really saw him before he went into his study to draw up more plans, most likely for his big comeback. He needed it to be perfect, and so he spent nearly every waking moment concentrating on it.

He'd been reading over the morning paper, the Gotham Herald, making silly comments about headlines and a photo of Oswald 'Penguin' Cobblepot being charged once again for distribution of illegal arms, but had gone quiet when I'd said those words.

"Why would you need to learn?" he asked, looking up at me over the paper.

I looked down at my feet. Of course I couldn't tell him about my plan to kidnap a notorious snitch and threaten his life, it would raise too many questions.

"I erm, thought about helping you out in the gang and stuff. Maybe if I learn to shoot I could be of use?" I replied.

He scoffed, but could tell I was serious. "It's a dangerous world out there, pumpkin. I wouldn't want you getting hurt, especially when you're not as capable as the guys."

I chewed my lip. "You don't know how capable I am until I try it, I suppose."

The corner of his lip twitched. "I don't have much time... but you may be onto something. Knives are great but not always practical." He put extra pronunciation on the l, as if his tongue was wrapping itself around the letter and choking it.

I gave him a smile as he put down his paper, and began to get up. "You've got an hour, that's all." he added.

"Oh thanks, dad! I won't waste your time, I promise." I giggled, getting up and following him, not too close, but enough to show I was interested. It was funny that though we had grown quite close and he seemed to have aspects of a dad, I was still quite cautious of him. I couldn't say it was because he was a murderer, because I suppose I was one too, and so was my mom and my Auntie Ivy, and I was just dandy with them. Maybe it was because he was fairly unpredictable, and I was still trying to scope out whether he wanted me here or not. Also to see if he would try and kill me.

I'd read up online about him and my mom, only to learn he'd tried to kill my mom several times, albeit she'd tried to kill him right back. That really ground my gears, the fact that he'd tried to kill her, and I after reading it I'd been very close to confronting him and understand what the hell he thought he was trying. However, I was sure I wouldn't keep my cool and then he might turn on me and try to kill me too. Maybe it was enough punishment for him that he'd failed to kill my mom, but some low life thugs succeeded in his place.

He entered another room, one that I had funnily enough, never seen or even accidentally bumped into when trying to find my way around the hideout. It was rather bland, decoration wise, but featured a set up indoor shooting range with an array of guns. They ranged from uzis to Tommy guns to just plain 35 caliber pistols.

"Boys, be off with you." he snapped, at three goons that were playing poker in the corner of the room.

They gave no sounds of displeasure, most likely because they would be shot on the spot, and left quickly without a word. The two of us were left alone and he turned back to me, clasping his hands together.

"So, have you ever shot a gun?" he asked.

"No, sir." I replied.

"Held a gun?"

"Nope."

"Hell, even been at a shooting gallery?"

I shook my head.

He threw his hands in the air. "Christ, curse your mother for being useless, least she could have done was let you have lessons."

"We were poor."

His smile fell. "Not paid lessons, stupid. I meant she could have driven you out in the middle of nowhere, set up some bottles, and let you try and shoot them down."

I shrugged. "I think she was trying to raise me to be a respectable citizen."

He let out a life. "It's America! Everyone and their dogs know how to shoot a gun. Well, everyone except you, but we can change that today." He opened the gun rack, and passed me a simple 9mm handgun, along with a magazine. It was surprisingly heavy in my hands, and I hand to redistribute my grip on it so I didn't drop it.

"We'll start simple. Pull the slide back."

He pointed at the specific part of the gun, and I obeyed, pulling it back.

"Now load the gun with a magazine, which I'm sure you've at least seen in movies."

I nodded, and slid the magazine into the bay with a click.

"Now pull the slide back further and let it go, which will allow the round to go into the chamber. Don't put your finger on the trigger at all until you're aiming it at your target."

I did as he said, and smiled in triumph.

"That was the easy part, now onto the shooting part." He stood behind me, placing both of my hands onto the weapon, and holding it at around shoulder height. "Stand wide, guns have quite a kickback and you're small, so I don't want you falling over." I stood with my legs at an angle, just wider than hip width apart. Dad stood back, and pointed at the red and white targets.

"Look down the scope... and gently pull the trigger."

I did so, and was absolutely underestimating the opposite force I would get. Staggering a little, I regained my balance to find my bullet hadn't even come close to the target that I had looked down my scope at.

He sighed. "I knew you'd be wasting my time."

I furrowed my brow but didn't reply, just lining up my shot once again. This time when I pulled the trigger I was more sturdy, and the bullet impacted the penultimate outer ring of the target. He kept giving me passive aggressive comments, on how I was doing it wrong, or how he could have spent his time much wiser, but I tried to shut him out as best I could.

Taking a deep sigh, I pulled it once more. I really thought it had it, but this bullet ended up even more far away than the last.

He groaned. "I know I said I'd give you an hour, but I don't think I can really be here for all of it. My blood is going to start boiling."

I raised an eyebrow. "Aren't fathers usually supportive?"

He gave me a simple grin. "Not this one. I'm realistic, and the reality of this situation is that you're not at all a natural, and I'm hungry."

My mouth fell agape, and with the gun in my hand I was tempted to just shoot him, but I was sure that wouldn't end up well.

He began to leave the room. "Feel free to practise in here. Don't use all my bullets though, toodles!" he sang, before the door slammed behind him.

If I had Superman's laser eyes I would have burnt down the door by now, as a glare pierced into where he had just been standing. I turned back to the targets, emptying the rest of the magazine into one. I pressed the release, let it fall to the ground, and slammed in another magazine, repeating the steps he had just taught me.

I may not have been able to get it on my first try, but I was going to show him just how well I could learn.

Around ten minutes later, I took a break, and slammed my empty handgun down rather carelessly. I sat there, discouraged, starting to believe that I really wasn't good enough to do this. There was the saying that practice makes perfect, but practice took time, and I was always the impatient type. My lungs pulled in deep gulps of air, as I sat on the ground and attempted to relax. When trying to do something right, but I found myself getting seemingly worse with every try, I usually found that catching my breath and relaxing would let me do it better next time.

I couldn't sit still for long before I had to get up again, and load my gun. I took a deep breath, slid the slide pack, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit between the two inner circles of one of the targets. My mouth made an o in shock, and if I was that way inclined, I would have cried.

I turned to the second target, and pulled it again. The bullet buried itself on the innermost dot - a bullseye. Without a pause, I swung to face the third target, pulled it and saw yet another bullseye.

"Oh fuck this." I swore to myself, emptying the handgun and picking up a larger pistol, with a larger caliber.

I repeated my routine, loading it, pulling back, pulling trigger, and this time I got a bullseye, or very close, on every target. Cockily, I proceeded to move on to a shotgun, and loaded the correct bullets into it.

"Waste of time, my ass."

I aimed it at the middle target, and pulled the trigger. In my fit of rage, I hadn't really accounted for the increased kickback, and so I was knocked backwards, and landed on my butt. My shoulder and behind were incredibly sore, but I couldn't help but laugh. I had acted too quickly, and now I was splayed out on my ass like a fool.

Again! Again! shouted the inner child in me, and so I jumped back to my feet. I raised the gun, pulled the trigger, and this time on purpose, let myself flop backwards on the floor. I cackled and held my stomach, light on breath. I just imagined someone in the middle of a gun fight not standing correctly, and flying backwards just because of the backwards force.

"Aight, it's serious now, bub." I mocked, in an Italian American gangster accent, and flipped up. I stood sturdily in a wide stance, pressed the butt of the gun to my shoulder - that would soon be bruised - and took a deep breath in. I pulled the trigger, and cringed a little at the kick. The bullet had a much larger impact, but smacked right into the centre of the middle target.

"Bullseye!" I cheered.

I shot at the targets again, and the hole overlapped with the first one, creating a sideways eight. Bullseye, after bullseye after bullseye. I put my hands in the air, still holding the heavy weapon, and gave a little dance like no one was watching.

Little did I realise, my dad was in fact watching from the doorway. With a smile on his face.


	24. new years eve

The metal of the top of the storage container creaked under my feet as I walked along it.

Victor was lay down, with his eye lined up with the scope on his set up sniper rifle. "You're early. Thought you'd be a late kind of girl." he stated, not looking up at me. The rifle was pointed at the docking point, which was around 120 metres away.

I shrugged. "I always like to be early, just in case. And I thought we'd be closer?" I retorted, sitting down next to him.

In our dark clothes, the two of us were nearly invisible, being covered by the blanket of Winter night darkness. It was very cold, but I'd wrapped up in a thick fleece jacket, gloves and a scarf; Victor wasn't so prepared, but he didn't seem to be too phased by the chill.

"We don't want to be seen too early, or for them to get the opportunity to call for backup. I was thinking I could snipe the guys out once you got here, and then go over and change into their uniforms. Then we can sit in the truck without raising too much suspicion."

"What if you can't use your sniper to take out all of them?"

"Are you suggesting something?"

I smirked. "If you let me use a gun, I could sneak over and take out any guys you can't get to."

He cocked an eyebrow, and finally looked at me. "You know how to shoot? Very interesting. But how do I know you won't screw this whole thing up?"

"I could say the same thing to you. Just because you're a professional doesn't mean you can pull it off every time. Think of me as a professional in training, or something."

He sighed, pulling a sleek black Glock 41 out of his holster, along with a matte suppressor, which he attached to the barrel. Reluctantly, he handed it to me. I smiled as I felt the now familiar weight of a weapon in my hands, it was starting to excite me and though it was terribly wrong, I actually liked the thrill of death that followed me.

"Don't go pointing it at yourself or anything." he warned, as I turned it around in my hand.

"I'm not stupid," I hissed, glaring at him. "It's just a nice gun."

He suddenly looked back into his scope as the purring of an engine sounded from the area in question. It was a truck, with sturdy metal walls, and a large GCPD logo slapped on the side of it.

"Bingo," Victor murmured, as he observed a man get out of the passenger seat and head around to stand guard at the back doors of the truck. One woman sat in the drivers seat, but turned the keys so the engine would subside, and opened the door so she could hang her legs out. "Two officers, perfect."

"I'll go up closer to get a better look, take the shot when you see I'm over there." I added, climbing down from the shipping container, which was much easier than climbing up. Landing quietly on my feet, I snuck around the other containers on the docks, which was an area around the size of a large soccer field. I hide behind some crates just far enough from the truck so I had a decent view of the female officer, but not so much that I was too exposed.

There was an intense sound of the wind resisting an object, along with a clunk as a body hit the ground with a grunt. A moment later, I aimed my gun at her face, firing the trigger, and hearing a noise similar to a branch snapping due to the suppressor. The driver slouched over into the passenger seat, and I breathed out a strangled sigh.

I hurried over to the drivers seat, and sent two more bullets into her head, just to double check she was dead. Leaning through the door on the driver's side, I checked the back was empty, and to my relief, it was. I suppose they didn't really care enough about poor Carl to up the security.

"You did alright there, partner." Victor's voice came, as he circled over to where I was standing.

I shrugged. "I could have gotten her in one hit, I suppose."

He walked over to the back of the truck, to where the dead officer was laying. Crouching down, he inspected the body, before starting to pull the clothing off of him, until he was left in his underwear and socks. Then Victor proceeded to start getting undressed as if I wasn't there, and I blushed and turned away.

"I'm gonna do the same with this officer..." I murmured, going over to the woman and struggling to get her out of the vehicle. With a heave I pulled her out, and she fell lifelessly onto the stone floor; I grimaced as I removed the clothing, but soon it was off, and I held it in my arms as I was unsure of what to do. I gave a sneaky glance over at Victor to see that he had the officer's trousers on, and was buckling them up, but he had no shirt on. His pale torso was lean and the outline of veins on his chest was evident, also with the many raised scars that littered his abdomen, shoulders and back.

I flushed red and looked away again. I had never seen a guy in a state of undress before, at least not in person, and it was kind of intimidating. Nevertheless, I turned my back to him, and began to change into the uniform right in the open. It made me feel quite uncomfortable just because I didn't have much privacy, but at the same time it was kind of thrilling, as the cold air hit my skin and goosebumps jumped up all over my body.

I really hoped my dad never found out about this.

"Done?" Victor asked, politely, as I pulled my hair out from under the top. It was just past my shoulders now, as it had been a short while since Violet cut it.

I turned back to him and nodded, the blush still strong on my cheeks and nose. He gave me a smile, and grabbed the female officer, lugging her over his head; he walked a couple metres, then threw her into the water. The body bobbed around, but then sank slowly into the deep bay. With almost no effort at all, he did the same with the male officer. He turned back to me and clapped his hands like he was clearing himself of the deed.

"Now we just get in the front seats and wait."

-

"So where are you from? You don't sound like you're from Gotham." he asked, as we sat a little while later in the truck, him in drivers seat, and me in the passenger. We had hidden our clothes in the backpack I had brought, which was now stuffed beneath my feet.

"I shouldn't really be telling you, but Baltimore. I only moved here recently." I answered, pulling a knee to my face.

He grinned. "Baltimore, Maryland as in Hairspray Baltimore?" he asked.

I gave him a surprised look. "I thought you'd be more of a Silence of the Lambs Baltimore person."

He shimmied his head from side to side. "I can appreciate any classic, not just ones that involve murder and crime. I think you're stereotyping me."

"To be honest, I didn't think there was much more to you than white snarky hitman."

His smile softened. "Well I'm glad I could surprise you."

We were interrupted by the roaring of engines pulling toward us. I peered into my side mirror to see a sleek black and white police boat, with Metropolis Police transcribed on the side.

"Stay here and don't say much, I'll open the back doors." he instructed me, rather seriously, and I nodded. He got out, adjusting the officer cap on his head.

Looking in the mirror once again, I could see him walk over to the truck doors, just as the boat pulled up, and three people got off. Two of them were in uniform, and were holding the third, who had his hands chained behind his back. Carl Kristoff.

The back doors were opened, and the officers shoved Kristoff inside the truck.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" he spat after them, his voice a mix of Latin and Gothamite, as if he had been raised speaking Spanish, but had been around the criminals of this damn city far too long. He gave a laugh as the doors were slammed close, and Victor jumped back in.

He turned on the engine, and we drove seamlessly out of the docks, and onto the main roads.

"Maaan, there's no point in taking me to the GCPD. Even if I get sent to Blackgate, I'll be out of there just as quick as I get put in." he bragged, and I rolled my eyes. "So between you and me, homie, I think you should take me somewhere else."

I noticed a glimpse of Victor smirking in one of the mirrors. "Oh, don't worry, you're not going to the GCPD." he replied, his voice light.

The jangling of chains was heard as Carl moved. "Oh? Wow, that was easy." he murmured, surprise in his voice. "Could you drop me off at Penn Street and I'll have my boys pick me up there."

Victor tsked. "I don't think you're in the position to be making requests, Carl. But let's say I can drop you off, first you have to be a good boy for Daddy, and prove your life means something. So we're making a detour."

Carl's eyes widened, and I turned to look at Victor. "Erm, where are we going?" I asked, politely, as we drove at a moderate pace down another street, stopping at red lights just so we didn't attract any attention.

He gave me a quick smile. "We're headed to my favourite place, it's a surprise."

The armoured truck rattled as we drove, and it was slightly unsettling. Actually I didn't know if I was more unsettled by that, a man who was involved in my mom's murder being sat in the back, or that Victor could pull a full 180 and turn out to be a complete psychopath. Nevertheless he continued to drive, until it pulled into a wide alley, and he shut off the engine.

He got out, and I did too, slinging the bag of clothes around my shoulder. There was a door to one side of the alley, which looked like a fire exit. Looking up, I couldn't see much more than that the building was very tall, and was most likely built in the Victorian age of Gotham.

Victor opened the back doors, and dragged out a shaking Carl. Even in the dim light of the night sky, I could see that Carl was clearly terrified.

"Oh god, you aren't cops, who are you people?" he fumbled, his voice fluctuating from normal to high and scratchy.

"We're some people that have guns, and want answers." I replied, just as Victor kicked open the door. Carl gave me worried eyes, and I had to admit - it was sort of nice to have people be afraid of you like this.

The building was empty as it was nighttime, and in it there was a winding staircase, and a single elevator. We took the elevator up to the top, as Victor explained that we didn't have time to force this fuckhead up ten flights of stairs.

It wasn't until we were nearing the top that I realised where we were. "We're in a clock tower." I breathed, listening to the ticking of the large clock on the side of the building.

The doors opened and we stood out onto the very top of the clock tower, on a medium sized rooftop, lined by metre high railing. Looking from here the view was magnificent, the landscape of the dark, brooding city stretching on for miles in every direction.

My eyes roaming the skyline didn't last for long, before Victor grabbed Carl by the collar, and bent him backwards over the metal railing. The latter whimpered and tried to get away, but alas his hands were still bound behind his back.

"Now, Carl. You were busted by the FBI for being involved in a murder, correct? What, hmm, did you tell them?" the former grilled, his grip on the other man tight.

Carl shook his head. "I told them everything, I don't know nothing else about the puta!"

I neared him, pulling out my knife and twirling it in my hands. "That puta was my mother, so you're just gonna have to tell us everything you told them and more."

He visibly gulped hard, and nodded. "Okay, I was called into this by one of the other guys on the job, who ended up getting killed- I was working with a group of four guys, we broke into this little place in Maryland, I don't know why but the guy told me we'd get more instructions once we got there. Well the lady heard us come in, killed two of the guys, and then another guy bashed her over the head and we did a runner. I still didn't get paid, so if you let me go I could hel-"

"The man who bashed her over the head, that was Happy, wasn't it?" I asked, as Victor held him over further.

"Yeah, yeah! Strange guy, didn't talk."

"Describe him. Or do you need me to help your memory?" Victor snapped, as he was aware the railing was giving a little creak.

"No I don't- he was very tall, big guy, maybe 300lbs? White, always wore a mask so no one ever saw his face."

"A mask?"

"Yeah he's always worn it, even back when the two of us worked together for Pacino- rumours say he has a hideous scar across his face-"

"Did I ask you about rumours, fuckface?"

"I'm sorry, but that's all I know!"

"You know, I really don't believe you."

"Listen, homie, whatever you want, it's yours. Money? I got it. Women? Just name it, just let me go."

Victor tsked once again. "Poor choice of words." His grip on Carl released, and the man fell even further backwards with a yelp, before gravity did its job, and pulled him all the way over.

Victor and I watched as he descended almost a hundred feet, and I couldn't pull my eyes away until he was nothing but a mess on the pavement below.

"We're done here." he murmured, and I looked up at him.

We left without another word.


	25. new years eve pt2

"Where are you driving?" I asked, as Victor took another unknown turn. It was the second time today he'd just driven instead of telling me where, and I wouldn't miss it anytime soon.

He smiled, but kept his eyes on the road. "To the top of Otisburg Hill to watch the fireworks, if that's alright by you." he answered.

I smiled small. "Yeah... that would be great." I replied.

Not since I was young had I watched the fireworks; mom loved to watch them, though in our neighbourhood in Baltimore no one set them off, as the cops in the area several years had shot a young man for setting them up in his backyard. There hadn't been a law against it, but they never did give a reason. Anyway, it meant there was never any fireworks set off around where we lived, so there was never even an option to watch them.

Victor pressed the button for the radio to turn on, and it immediately started playing a tape labelled '80s hits'. This one in particular was Call Me by Blondie.

I gave a laugh. "You're full of surprises I swear, I never would have thought you were into 80s music." I commented.

He wafted a hand. "It brings back old memories, don't judge me." he replied.

"I'm not judging you! Though I didn't think you were over forty?" I giggled.

He let out a quick taken aback chortle. "That's because I'm not bloody forty, I'm only twenty-four! You can have memories of something without it being there then it originally came out."

"Oh, hehe." So he was twenty-four.

I was still trying to pluck up the courage to tell him I was only seventeen, just so he didn't do anything rash. Honestly I'd meant to tell him early on, when he'd come over to the Isley house, but I thought it wouldn't come to anything, and I never really got the chance. Now I was worrying that I might actually like him, no I didn't like him, but I'd felt a buzzing in my stomach all of today. Nevertheless it made me more worried about telling him I was still a minor, as though I was above the age of consent in Gotham, it might make him feel like a predator, or a creep. I just wanted to appear mature and like I knew my shit when I was with him, and him thinking I was still a child would break that. Maybe I would just wait until I turned eighteen in a few months. Maybe then would also be a good time to tell him my father was the Joker.

"When I was younger, my dad used to play music from the 70s and 80s, raving about how good it was when he was a kid. My mom and dad were polar opposites, her being the serious, cautious parent, and him being the carefree, fun one, that would play games with me. So this kind of music reminds me of my pa." he explained.

I smiled. "That's lovely, were you from Gotham?" I asked.

"My ma and I were, Gotham born and bred, but my my dear old dad was the son of Russian immigrants, and he himself was from England. He'd met my ma when she'd gone over to London on holiday, and he came right the way back with her. Too bad they couldn't stand each other after that." he answered, chuckling. "I'm hoping I have better luck than that with marriage."

He parked the car in a clear area, and turned off the engine.

"So you believe in marriage?" I asked, as he got out of the car and I followed suit.

He shrugged. "Is that odd?"

"One in three marriages end in divorce, I've heard."

"That's because people usually marry the wrong people. That or they don't understand how many petty squabbles you have as a married couple."

We began to walk up Otisburg Hill, which as the name said, a large, grassy hill. There was a thicket of trees on the flat ground, but the hill itself only had one single oak tree sat upon it.

"My grandparents, before they died, always used to squabble and argue, mostly because my grandad was stuck in the mud about everything. They still loved each other though... I think." I reached the top of the hill, and sat down on the dry, cold grass. "My parents never got married, however, and I never lived in the same house as both of them. So I'm no expert."

Actually that statement was sort of false - my dad had proposed to my mom with a grenade ring at some point and she accepted, though it was never made official, so I assumed it wouldn't stand up in court.

"What were your parents like? You haven't really said much about them." he asked.

I scratched my neck - what could I really say? "Well my mom was a very kind person, I'd lived with her since I was ten. She sounded a bit like your dad, not afraid to make a fool of herself by playing games that I wanted. Not a very good cook, but an excellent baker, she used to make cookies every other week. Neither of us were originally from Maryland, but she made it so that we fit right into the neighbourhood we lived in." I discussed, staring out into nothing. "She was originally from Brooklyn, but she lived in Gotham for a long while."

"I am sorry for your loss, she seems like a great woman." he responded.

I waved a hand. "Don't be, I'm kinda numb to it now." I replied, sitting back. "And my dad? Well he's a bit of an extravagant guy, doesn't take much seriously, so I don't think he's the person I can go to with my real problems. Totally unlike my mom, who was very in touch with emotions." I paused, processing ways I could describe him without straight up saying 'he's a crazed clown that's killed more than you've had hot dinners, also he's not dead, he just went missing for seven years'

I continued. "He's a Gotham native, so that's why I came here after my mom died; I actually only found out he existed at the start of November. My mom always told me he'd died. I guess she probably didn't want me to have anything to do with him. But it doesn't matter because now I have to live with him."

He looked down at me with a smile. "Do you like him? I'm getting mixed signals."

I shrugged. "He's my dad that I thought was dead, so I wanna get to know him. He makes me laugh sometimes, but the more I learn about him, the more I get confused. I wished I could have never met him, and simultaneously wished I could have known him since I was young, and for him and my mom to get on. He's the last family I've really got, so I feel like I have to hold on to him."

He stared up at the sky. "Family in terms of relatives mean nothing if they weren't there for you. Blood of the pact is thicker than water of the womb, as the saying actually goes."

"Most of my friends were back in Baltimore, but I've also made some great friends here. I sort of know what you mean by that."

He shook his head. "Actually, don't listen to me, I don't have any friends. Not because I can't make them, but because I usually gravitate to being on my own."

"But you're here with me? If that were true then you'd have captured and killed Kristoff by yourself, and we wouldn't be talking like this."

He fell silent, and didn't reply, staring out at the night sky.

I stared up at him, unsure of what I was feeling. When I had first met him, I was so content with being cold and kind of bitchy as I was with everyone I just met, but now a week later, I now felt bad when I started to act that way. Fancy seeing him drop a guy off a tall building cause me to think differently.

He sat close beside me; I felt that pang in my stomach again. Stupid me getting weird feelings about stupid dumb boys, I hadn't felt this kind of way since Freddie, a boy at my martial arts class who had asked me to be his girlfriend. He'd soon broken up with me after I was playing around and accidentally broke his nose. No one had asked me out since.

He pulled over his bag. "Now, I couldn't get any booze, because I have to drive back, and I don't want you in any undesirable state when you get back home, so I brought..." he started, diving into his bag and pulling out a bottle of root beer, and two plastic champagne glasses.

"You're so fancy." I murmured, rolling my eyes jokingly as he passed me a glass, but I held it out as he poured in some root beer.

He poured some for himself as I sipped mine. "You're so unusual, on the other hand. Why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself?"

"Like what?"

"Favourite colour?"

"Periwinkle, it's like a purple-blue colour. What about you?"

"Green, though you'd never catch me dead wearing it." He paused. "Favourite animal?"

"It may seem unusual but I like frogs. I used to have one when I was around five named Humpty, but I think he escaped and one of the neighbourhood dogs got him."

"That's... actually really interesting. I'll make sure to get you a frog in future."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure some place in Gotham sells them. That is if you're not going to rush off as soon as you get revenge on this Happy guy."

I chewed my lip. Never had I really been one for planning the future, and this was the one of the times it showed. I had no idea what I'd do once I found this guy. Maybe I could rush off somewhere else and cleanse my hands of this city, but at the same time I felt so drawn to it. Also I was unsure whether my dad would just have more people drag me back here as long as he was alive, which was a hassle I didn't need. Not that I was contemplating killing him, I didn't have the balls.

"I'd have to stay, for my dad. And to finish school of course." I replied truthfully, not really thinking about the last part.

"You're at school?" he asked, and I realised what I had said.

"Err... Yeah, I'm at Gotham Uni. I have to finish my degree, you know." I stammered, blushing.

He pushed the hair away from my face so he could see it clearer. "You're lying to me," he spoke softly, and I stared at his lips to avoid his gaze. They were slightly chapped. "and you're not a very good liar, Marcie."

I sighed. "Right, I'm not at university, I'm only seventeen. I just wanted to seem like a cool older student or something. So you'd take me seriously." I muttered.

He burst out laughing. "You were just trying to hide that you were seventeen? You're stupid, man, that's nothing!"

I gave him a look. "So you're not bothered? I thought you'd run back in your car and leave me here."

He shook his head, grinning. "I might have done that if you said you were thirteen or fourteen, but you're not, silly."

I started to laugh, but stopped soon after as there was a crackling pop sound. The sky erupted into beams of light and coloured fire, and I gazed up at it in awe. Fireworks. There were all different colours, green; yellow; pink; purple; red; blue...

"Happy New Years, I suppose." I murmured, grinning like a fool.

Victor didn't say anything, but put his hand over mine.

I didn't move it.


	26. her

The drive back was a tense one.

Not a bad tense, don't get me wrong, just silent, as neither of us really had anything to say. It was silly really, we'd only touched hands, and here we were - blushing and giddy like schoolchildren.

I got the impression he wasn't the best with women, and most likely hadn't had a girl in years. He wasn't as awkward and stupid as a virgin guy, but he still seemed very careful about what he did and said. Which actually wasn't that much after we'd watched the fireworks.

Now, I wasn't going to immediately jump into being interested in him as a boyfriend just because I was getting hot under the collar thinking about him. I wasn't the kind of girl to jump into a guy's arms at the first since of a kind gesture, or write lovey things in my diary about him. Not that there was anything wrong with those kind of girls, they were the ones who ended up happily married with three kids by the age of thirty. I was instead the type who probably would be living with frogs and drinking my sorrows away at that age.

At the same time, I wasn't going to kick him away and do anything in my power to make sure he didn't go any further. He had peaked my interest, and hadn't pushed me to do anything more than touching hands when we were on that hill, so I wasn't outright disgusted by him, like guys that had tried to flirt with me before. I wasn't sure that he wasn't one of those guys that was just using me to get in my pants, but I would just have to wait and see.

My dad would be able to get rid of him easy enough if things went bad.

Just here." I instructed Victor, as he drove toward the place I usually got the school bus.

He scoffed. "I'm not going to let a lovely lady like yourself walk home in the dark. That would be cruel." he replied, but slowed to a halt.

The roads were surprisingly empty, most likely because it was New Years Eve, and people were most likely already at parties. Actually, it was now January 1st, not December 31st. I couldn't believe the year had gone that fast. In a month or so I would be turning eighteen, and I'd officially be an adult, able to go live on my own and do as I pleased. I was pondering not going on to university, as I wouldn't have enough money to pay for it. My dad might not approve of me following the straight and narrow life, but I'd feel bad asking him anyway - he didn't exactly have a stable source of income. Maybe I could find a sugar daddy, and get him to pay for me. Internally I laughed: I definitely wasn't the type to get a sugar daddy. Or sell pictures of my feet on the internet, even though it could be a good business.

"That would be nice, but I really don't want my dad to see you. He might kill you." I responded, my brow creased. It was true, I wasn't sure what my dad would do if he knew I was getting lifts from a man, but I assumed he was the protective type, and he'd kill him as soon as look at him, no matter if it hurt me.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is he really that bad?" he asked, turning to me.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You have no idea." I replied, looking at nothing. I turned to face him. "Thanks for helping me find Kristoff, Victor, you didn't have to but it really helped me out."

He scoffed. "The guy was useless, I'm just sorry I couldn't help more."

"No, I found out that Kristoff and this Happy guy both worked for Don Pacino at some point. That's at least something to go on."

He sighed. "Pacino is a really tough guy, lots of security always around him. The guy only ever shows his face when he's throwing balls, to try and raise his credentials."

"Well then I'm going to one of them, and I'm gonna have a nice chat to this Pacino dude."

His face became a little more serious. "You're not going alone then. I'll have to get out my old tuxedo."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't need to babysit me, y'know. I can handle myself."

He laughed. "Calm down, doll, I actually have some guys to see that I'm sure will be there. So I'm not gonna be babysitting you."

"Ah business stuff. Interesting, but I think I better be getting back, before I have search parties out for me."

The door of Victor's car slammed close behind me as I got out.

He rolled down the window so I could hear him. "Watch yourself, Marcie, I don't want you getting hurt."

"I will, dumbass." I laughed, putting a hand on my hip. "Now, goodnight, I'll see you when I see you."

"Goodnight, stupid." he retorted, grinning, and rolling the window back up.

I gave him a sweet wave, and he pulled away, leaving me around a couple blocks away from the hideout.

I walked down an alley, taking the shortcut back as I always did. One might be on edge when walking down dark streets at night, but I wasn't. The streets were fairly empty, and so I was on my lonesome.

At least that was what I thought.

"Is that your boyfriend?" a female voice asked, scaring me out of my skin.

I took a sharp breath in, and turned around. Expecting to see a random hooker, I scrunched up my face; instead I found nothing, only the empty street I had just been walking.

"Who's there?" I called out, my hand stuffing in my pocket and tightening around the gun Victor had lent me.

"What is your deal with Victor Yaworsky?" she asked, the voice coming from seemingly above me. It had a distorting mechanism on it, much like I'd heard the Batman use.

"None of your business." I retorted, my eyes eagerly searching the space above my head.

"The fact that he threw an unarmed man off a roof when he was awaiting trial is my business." she replied. "If you answer my questions then I can help you."

"I don't need help, just stay out of this." I snapped, putting my gun away and walking out of the alley.

There was a thump as boots came into contact with the floor, along with the motion of a flimsy fabric as it moved against the upthrust of air. I whipped around again, only this time I did find someone. It was a woman, nearly around six feet in height, dressed in a Kevlar and metal plated body suit. She wore a thick Bat mask with no trace of hair hanging out, and a fabric cape, which was being drawn backwards by the breeze. The only visible part of her was her light eyes, as unlike Batman, her lower face was covered by a mouth piece on the mask. That was probably where the voice changer came in.

"Let me guess, Batgirl?" I asked, a hand on my hip, and a tone which indicated that I really didn't have time for this.

The mask moved as it looked like she glared at me. "It's Greybat." she retorted, a serious tone on her tongue.

I gave a short laugh. "Sorry, girl, I'm not from around here."

She stood up straighter. "I know. You're from Baltimore."

My eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong-"

"You're Marceline Doe, the missing girl from Baltimore, am I right?"

My brow furrowed and a raised my gun. "What the hell do you want?" I knew my bullets wouldn't make a dent in the armoured suit, but I still wanted to make it look like I had some semblance of control.

She didn't hold her hands up or flinch. "I want to help you. You're on the path of revenge, and you really want to get this guy that killed your mother. But doing that won't solve anything."

I narrowed my eyes. "Stop talking like you know me! I don't care about your opinion or whether it'll solve anything, I'm gonna find this guy and I'm gonna murder him in cold blood. Then I can sleep easy, and hopefully get the fuck out of this stupid town!"

She approached me a little, albeit I kept my gun high. "A guy once hurt someone very dear to me, and changed my life for the worse. I used to be like you - running after any lead that would get me to this guy, even though people like Batman tried to stop me. It never got me any further, and one day I realised that the person that was hurt, wasn't proud of me for seeking revenge." She paused. "Would your mother be proud of you for going down this road?"

My skin crawled, and I shot at her feet as I was starting to get a bit jumpy. "Stay the hell back! And you have no idea what my mom was like, but I do! And I know for sure that she'd be proud!"

Greybat stopped in her tracks, giving no quick reply.

"Please... just get out of here and let me go in peace. I don't want your Batfamily and the GCPD to drag me away from here. I've got a purpose for the first time in seventeen years, and I'm not giving that up easily." I replied, my voice breaking up as I shook.

The woman didn't say anything more, but pulled an object from her pocket. She fired it and I flinched, but nothing wrapped around me, or even came into contact with me. I opened my eyes to see Greybat soaring upwards, a grapple gun hooked onto the rooftops above and dragging her weight up. She disappeared without a trace.

Not a moment later, I turned the way I was going and pelted away, not stopping to see if she was following me.


	27. pauli’s diner

(AN: Just short fluff but the action will continue next chapter!)

"I can't believe you met a bat relative, that's crazy!" Violet squealed, as herself, Luka and I sat in a small, independent, fifties diner named Pauli's.

The whole place was coloured red and white, with several separated booths, and a jukebox in the far corner, that strung out forties and fifties classics. This song in particular was Why Do Fools Fall in Love by the Teenagers.

I rolled my eyes. "It was hardly an enjoyable experience, she just talked at me like she was my shrink or something, saying that getting revenge isn't a good thing." I grumbled, stirring the straw around in my milkshake.

We each had milkshakes, even Luka who was lactose intolerant, but drank dairy anyway because 'fuck digestion and all that shit', repeated straight from his mouth. I had plain vanilla, Luka had strawberry, and Violet had this weird celery one. It sounded gross and I refused to try any of it.

"It's like meeting a celebrity though, I wish I could meet a bat member so I could at least cross it off my bucket list." she responded.

"To meet one you'd either have to be one, or be a real bad person." I laughed.

"Me as a vigilante as part of the bat family, what a riot." she chuckled, tipping her head back.

"Both of them sound cool, being like on top of the law sounds like it would be fun. Like disobeying your parents by sneaking out and going to a party or something. You get in trouble from someone, but at least you made yourself happy." Luka added, sipping his drink.

I smirked. "You being a criminal would be fun to see, but I don't think Wayne Enterprises would want to hire someone that was engaged in criminal activities, would they?" I joked. Luka had applied to get an apprenticeship at Wayne Enterprises in their technology branch, working along the side of Dr Lucius Fox. We were all very happy for him, but he seemed to be reluctant, as it meant he couldn't be wild and be a teenager anymore.

He sighed. "My mom signed up for me, I didn't actually think I'd get it. Now I'm gonna be a nerd forever."

Violet rolled her eyes. "This an opportunity you don't usually have, just bite the cool bullet and do it. Plus, you have never snuck out and gone to a party, so don't use that as an example."

I laughed. "Getting a place at Wayne Enterprises doesn't make you a nerd, dingus. If anything it makes you more cool than Violet and I."

"If that's even possible." Violet added on, and I playfully elbowed her one.

Luka shrugged. "Wayne Enterprises sounds cool, but that's because it's a Wayne business, and everyone associates it with Bruce Wayne, the playboy philanthropist. But I'm not gonna be cruising around in fast cars living the rich life, I'll be stuck in a lab shadowing someone who makes security systems. There's no fun in infiltrating security if you're the one that made them."

I rolled my eyes. "Woe is me, your life is so hard having a plan laid out for you already."

He grumbled. "You might see it that way, but I'd much rather be Bruce Wayne than Dr Fox."

Violet scoffed. "Huh I'm sure you'd take that back if you met the former; I've met Bruce Wayne and I can say it was the worst experience of my life."

I raised an eyebrow. "You met Bruce Wayne? Do tell." I crossed my legs on the bench and turned to her, narrowly avoiding the old gum that had been haphazardly stuck right next to my foot. The whole place was a little scruffy, but then what fast food joint wasn't?

She played with her hair. "I met him at the charity ball he was holding at the City Hall a few years ago. My mom was going to hold up everyone there for money, but that wasn't really important. So this boy a year or two younger than me starts making fun of my dress, which I already felt shitty enough in, so I smack him one in the face." She sipped her milkshake and a grin lit up her face. "Well turns out that boy was Damian, Bruce Wayne's son, and the billionaire himself spent a long time giving me a lecture of how to behave, basically assuming I was street trash bullying his son."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you... let me guess, gave him a piece of the action and knocked his teeth out? Kicked him in the private's? Got your ma to make him taste blood??" I guessed.

She sighed and shook her head, stirring her straw around in a figure of eight in her drink. "Nah I took the crap like a champ and kept out of the way for the rest of the ball. Mom is always saying I can't be seen associating with her because it can get me hurt, villains and heroes alike aren't too fond of her antics and would use me to get to her."

Luka frowned. "Why would she take you to one of these large events if she was worried about you being sussed out? Wouldn't people be concerned at who this child is and why she turned up at the same time as Poison Ivy?"

Violet shook her hands. "Ah it doesn't matter, I was only at that function because I'd begged her to take me to a high class function like that seen as she seemed to find her way into a lot of them. At least I can say it was cathartic when I saw Mom bust down a wall with a giant plant and wiped that smile right off Wayne's pretty little face."

"Ewwww, you think he's pretty?" I wrinkled my nose and curled my lip at the thought.

She looked at me as if I was mad. "Well duh! He's tall and blue eyes and muscled, if I wasn't so repulsed by him I'd be in love."

I laughed and threw a spare straw at her. "You gross female specimen I can't believe you!"

Violet's mouth hung open as she laughed. "You're one to talk, have you seen your skinny white boyfriend?"

I took no offence to her pointed statement and laughed harder. "Oh shut upppp he's not my boyfriend! Well he is, but like... shut up!"

Luka wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Soooo, have you done it yet?"

I gave him a look. "You're the last people I'd expect to ask! But no, I'm obviously saving myself for marriage." I put my hands gracefully in front of me and sat up straighter, giving a heavy air of posh or seemingly royal older lady.

Violet and I burst out laughing and even Luka managed to form a light chuckle.


	28. iceberg lounge

For yet another time in the past few months, I looked in the mirror, and didn't recognise who looked back.

I was sat in Victor's car, but I couldn't stop staring in the fold down mirror. Makeup laced every inch of my body, making me look healthy and glowing; a rich, red human hair wig sat upon my head quite realistically, and ran down my back, a feeling I hadn't felt in months. A white satin dress clung to my skin, and I was hardly able to keep breathing. But I had to, to keep up the façade.

"You look great, doll. I'm glad Dinah was able to help you out." he murmured, staring at my legs.

I didn't notice. "She was lovely," I replied, smiling at myself. Even that didn't look familiar, with the red lipstick topped over it. "How on earth did you meet her?"

Dinah was a rich white lady that Victor had some how got connections to, and who owned a hair company. He'd gone to her to try and find a suitable wig to wear, as to fulfil the look it neared to look like it was growing damn well out of my head. Dinah was extremely obliging, even gifting me the dress that I now wore. We were actually the same dress size, so it wasn't like the dress was too small... I think it was supposed to feel this sucked in.

"I'm the only guy Dinah hires to bump off her husbands so she can get their money. I haven't told the authorities in the five years I've been doing it, and so basically she'll be willing to do anything, just so the GCPD don't know how she really funded her company." he explained.

I closed the mirror, and turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Anything?" I asked, my voice lowering slightly.

He looked up at my eyes again. "No, not that. She only whores herself out to richer, older men. I'm too poor for her." he added, laughing nervously.

I gave him a dangerous smile. "Funny."

He rolled his eyes. "Can we go in yet? You've been staring at yourself for like ten minutes."

I giggled. "Oops, sorry. I didn't realise it was that long." I turned back to my mirror. "But the disguise is so convincing..."

He sighed, and opened his car door, getting out. I laughed a little to myself, and opened my own door, letting my white high heels hit the sidewalk. It didn't take me long to walk naturally in them, and I slung the strap of my matching white clutch over my shoulder.

There was a long line out of the entrance of the Iceberg Lounge, one we completely ignored as Victor wrapped an arm around me, and the two of us walked straight in.

The exterior looked like that of a nightclub with neon blue lights, however the inside was very much different. It was very high class, with a large block of ice and water being the centre piece of the room, and drew the attention well, as seals bounced around and squealed. Tables were sat around it, but glass separated the seals and the humans, to avoid any splashing. There were raised seats on balconies where you could look over the place, without being seen clearly. Those seats must usually be taken by the unlawful criminals that Cobblepot was heard to solicit.

There was a desk where a waiter would stand and seat people coming in individually, however instead of her coming over, we were instead greeted by a short, greased haired man in a black suit.

"Victor!" he sang, albeit his voice was nervous. "We weren't expecting you."

"Good evening, Potts, I am aware that it's the Don's party tonight, but I just thought I'd stop by and... spare my company." Victor replied, smirking.

Potts scratched his head through his white gloves. "I don't think Mr Cobblepot would approve of you being here, after last time-" he protested.

"Ah, but Penguin isn't here, he's in Blackgate, eh? So why don't you just be a gentleman and keep this from your boss' ears, and it'll go better for all of us." he retorted, patting him on the shoulder and walking past him. Potts simply gave a whimper in reply.

"What did you do last time?" I asked, as we took a seat on one of the very visible seats. We needed to be seen if my semblance of a plan was going to work.

"I was a bit drunk and tried to climb into the seal enclosure. Penguin didn't appreciate it at all." he chuckled, adjusting his blazer. He was wearing a simple black and white tuxedo, with his dark hair tied back like always.

I smiled. "Don't you dare attempt it this time, I don't need the Don knowing I came here with a seal loving buffoon." I joked, crossing my legs.

"Right, the plan where you attempt to get alone with the good old Don so you can ask him about Happy?" he replied, cocking an eyebrow.

I gave him a look back. "What? It might work." I responded, both of our voices fairly quiet. We didn't know if someone might hear us, and spoil the whole thing.

"There's a chance of it working, but keep your phone on you. I don't want something going wrong when you're on your own."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, dad."

He sighed, but got up and marched upstairs to where his 'business associates' were supposed to be. This left me on my own, and I lay back on my chair, making sure I was approachable and had good posture. A band at the side of the first floor was playing a smooth song on their instruments, and I tapped my finger on the table to the slow beat. Ginger-red hair fell over one of my eyes which held dark blue contacts, and I almost flinched, not recognising it as my own hair just yet.

"What's a beautiful lady like yourself doing sat all alone like this?" an Italian male voice asked, and I looked up daintily. The face wasn't of Don Pacino, but I recognised him from the mugshots Victor had shown me, of people involved with him.

I turned on the charm. "Oh well I came here with a friend, but he seems to have left me. I'm afraid I don't know nobody here." I purred, in my fake Gotham accent, which was actually more convincing that I had thought.

I was hoping that he'd be stricken with me, and invite me up to where his crime partners were sitting, then I could have a shot at the Don. It turned out tonight was my lucky night.

"Why don't you sit with me, and I'll introduce you to my friends, eh?" he asked, grinning as I stood up.

"That would be nice." I responded, giving him a sly but sweet smile as he slipped an arm around my back.

He led me to a door in the back, that revealed two sets of staircase, leading left and right; we took the right. The carpets didn't look walked on, they were a royal dark red and outlined with gold thread. These very floors had been walked on by all of Gotham's worst, and now I was taking the same steps. It was like a metaphor, if I even cared to think about that kind of thing.

We continued on until we reached a table, where several men ranging from young twenties to mid sixties, sat, drinking wine.

"Pazzi, how very like you to disappear and come back with a woman." A man laughed, a man I recognised as Salvatore Carmine, Pacino's right hand man. If he was here, the latter wouldn't be far away. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

I relaxed, and held my clutch beside my hip instead of my chest. "Lana, Lana Windsor." I really was getting lost with all these names that were tied to me, that I was starting to forget what my real one was.

"A beautiful name, why don't you sit with the real men? Pazzi is still just a boy, isn't that right? Pazzi?" Carmine asked, to Pazzi's dismay.

He was going to give some argument, but finally decided against it, his face growing neutral. "Yeah, right." he replied, glumly sitting beside the other men.

"So Lana, can I get you a drink?" Carmine offered, putting an arm around me and holding me close. I was going to take a real good shower once I got home.

"I'll have the cherry vodka," I breathing, my voice very light and flirty. It made me feel ill. "That is if it's okay, mister."

He flashed me a grin, his gold tooth glistening. "Anything for a pretty doll like you." he replied, before clicking his fingers so a waiter came running. "A cherry vodka and another gin. Make it quick." His voice drastically changed from when he was talking to me, and when he was talking to the staff.

"Bring us a bottle of champagne too." a male voice added, as he moved toward the table. I tried not to look too surprised as I realised it was Pacino. He had a woman with him, tanned with very long black hair; he sat down, and she sat down on his lap.

"Pacino, good to see you." Carmine greeted, grinning. "Who's your lovely lady friend?"

"This is Sonja, say hello sweetheart." Pacino replied.

She smiled, and blushed, waving a hand in a small, feminine manner. "Hi."

The waiter swiftly returned with our drinks, and the men got to discussing plans. Sonja and I kind of sat there awkwardly, until we were finally addressed.

Pacino was smirking. "Why don't the four of us have some fun? Make the most of the night?"

Carmine laughed. "Good plan, my room is just upstairs. Why don't you follow me, ladies?"

"Perfect." I responded, giggling lightly. I wasn't acting - it really was perfect, now I could get Pacino alone in a room without any guards, or any suspicion.

Without any more say, the four of us walked to the glass elevator to the upper floors, me in Carmine's grasp, and Sonja in Pacino's. I walked softly, but gazed up at Carmine every now and then with a pouted look. We all stood in, and Carmine scanned a keycard to take his up to the living quarters; the doors closed, and the elevator started to travel upwards. As the walls were glass, one could look over the entire interior of the Iceberg Lounge.

From metres away I caught Victor's eye, who was talking to a few other men, which he also paused in as he turned to gawp at me. I gave him as wink which I wasn't even sure if he caught, before he turned back to talk to the men.

Luckily, the others didn't notice him staring, and if they did, they probably didn't think it was at me.

The elevator doors opened at the top suites, and the group of us exited into the lobby. We walked into a room, which Carmine opened by using his keycard again.

"Welcome to paradise," the man chuckled, and I inwardly cringed. I couldn't wait until this douche was dead.

Sonja giggled and kissed him on the mouth, before he pulled her into a deeper kiss. Pacino seized me and pushed his mouth onto mine, and though on the surface I responded positively, on the inside I was desperate to get away.

When I pulled away, he had cherry red lipstick smeared around his mouth.

"Why don't I go freshen up?" I murmured, stroking his face before slinking away.

"I could join you-" Pacino started, but I tutted.

"You'll ruin the surprise, baby. You do like surprises, don't you?" I breathed, giving him a cheeky smile.

He gave a slight nod, and I disappeared into the on suite bathroom, and locked the door behind me. I let out a quiet but relieved sigh, and turned on a tap, to cover any noises as I pulled out my Glock. I had plenty of bullets to take them all out, but I wanted to have some fun with Pacino.

"Why don't ya start without me?" I called, in my girly Gotham accent. "I wouldn't like to think I'm killing the mood."

I attached the suppressor to the end of the gun, and made sure there was a bullet in the chamber. Good, time to really kill the mood.

Gently, I opened the door, before firing two shots into Carmine and Sonja's heads, who hadn't even turned to look at me. They fell to the floor dead. The next two bullets impacted on Pacino's legs, avoiding any place that would lead to his instant death, but was enough to make him yelp. I stood over the bodies in my white heels, and raised the gun to the survivor's glabella.

"What are you doing?" he cried, his eyes wide.

"Playing a game. It's called, 'Can Don Pacino tell me what I need to know before I'm tempted to blow his brains out?'" I replied, sternly.

"You're crazy!" he whimpered, raising his hands up. They were shaking.

"I had a good teacher. Now are you ready to cooperate?"

"Jesus, what do you want? I'll tell you anything!"

I grinned. "A little birdie told me a guy called Happy used to work for you, around the same time as Carl Kristoff. I need everything you have on him."

He scrunched up his face in confusion. "All of this just to find Happy? He's not worth-"

"Tell me, scummy bear, I ain't fucking with ya."

"Okay, okay. Happy worked for me a couple years ago and he was a good guy, but very hard headed. Literally, as he was in a plane crash years ago that scarred all of his face and left him with bits of metal stuck in his head, so he couldn't be killed easy. Anyway he started wanting more dangerous jobs, and so he left to join other gangs."

"Where is he now?"

"How should I know??"

My eyes narrowed. "You better give me something. Or I start getting itchy." I neared him, gun pointed consistently at him. My arms were starting to get sore, but I ignored them.

"Okay! One of my guys went away on a job the other week in Bludhaven, and said he met up with Happy, he works in the nearby steel mill smuggling goods."

"This steel mill, what's it called?"

"I don't know! But there's not many steel mills in Bludhaven, so just fucking look!"

My face hardened, and I pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through his skull, and left a bloody mess on the wall, as well as a one of the bed as Pacino collapsed dead on it.

"Pleasure doing business with you."


	29. escape

Victor's foot collided with the pedal.

The car responded fast, taking off into the night, and dragging him and I with it. I closed my eyes, letting my fake red hair blow in reply to the wind.

"You killed two mob bosses, are you insane?" Victor snapped, just as I was building to a sense of euphoria.

I flashed him a grin. "It was far easier than I thought, really should have had more security. Oh you should have seen the Don's face when I held the gun to him!" I replied, carefree and giggling.

His face was serious as he cut through lines of traffic. "Marcie, you're gonna have the rest of the mob coming after you! I told you to be fucking careful!"

"I was careful, I killed them all so I left no witnesses, and no one saw through my disguise!"

"You went up to a room with three dangerous strangers, and then held the Don at gun point on your own! What would have happened if something went wrong and you needed help? I couldn't get up to the rooms because I don't own a keycard!"

"Well, it worked out in the end, didn't it?"

He groaned, taking another turn. "Whilst giving me a heart attack. I swear to God once we get somewhere safe I'm gonna..."

I turned to look at him, my brow furrowed. "What? What are you gonna do, big shot?"

He sighed but kept his eyes on the road. "Never you mind, just shut up."

"No, please tell me. I'd love to know what you're gonna do to put me in my place. Kill me? Oh yeah I'm sure that would fucking work out-"

"Marceline, shut up!" he yelled, temporarily letting go of the wheel to exclaim with his hands. "Just because I don't want you dead doesn't mean that I want to listen to your whining!"

I was about to say something, but closed my mouth, and turned to look out of the window. We drove the rest of the way in silence, however I didn't actually know where we were going before we got there. We pulled up outside of an apartment complex in the Narrows, and he shut off the engine. Curiously, I got out of the car, and he did also, slamming the door behind him.

Why was he being so temperamental? I shrugged it off, and though he didn't say anything about it, I followed him up the stairs of the entrance. He approached the elevator, and waited for me to get in before closing the doors behind me. We stood next to each other quietly, and I kept sneaking looks at him. His face was as I had never seen it before - stern and no nonsense. He didn't look back at me.

As the elevator neared the fourth floor, my hand snaked its way over to his. He didn't flinch, but instead grasped my hand tightly and used it to pull me closer to his side. I yelped high pitched, but soon calmed down, and tipped my head to rest on me.

"You drive me mad." he sighed, finally.

"I hope so." I murmured in reply, as the metal doors of the elevator parted.

He chuckled under his breath, and with the grip on my hand still strong, he pulled me into the lobby. Smoothly he slipped his keys into the hole of his door, and opened it, moving me in first.

The apartment was small and kind of dingy, with dark painted walls and the smell of old cigarettes in the air. There was a double bed in the corner which took up most of the space, and next to it was a sort of kitchen space, with a petite refrigerator, and a hob.

I couldn't really take in much more, as the next moment the door was closed, and I was being slammed against it. I groaned a little at the impact, and Victor took this to put his mouth on mine, in a strangely gentle kiss. Taken aback, I paused before bringing my hands up to the back of his head, and pushing him into more of a brutal kiss.

His hands came down to my hips, and he picked me up as I weigh nothing, before pressing me down on the bed.

I couldn't help but stare up at him happily afterwards. We were laid on the bed together, he was big spoon, and I was turned toward him in his arms. He had a TV very close, and so was watching some trashy reality show; he paused to look down at me.

"What's up, baby?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I think I'm in love." I murmured, mine pathetically sweet.

He raised an eyebrow. "And why do you think that?" he replied.

I shrugged. "I feel stupid, but I feel like I'm meant to be with you, even if I've only known you a couple weeks. I hated you before because I didn't want to admit it to myself."

He scratched his neck. "Well I'm sorry to break it to you, but a have a wife and kids back home."

I stared up at him, my eyes brimming with tears. "W-wha?" I stammered, my voice shaking.

He gave me a smile. "I'm fucking with you, man, don't cry."

I punched him in the arm but began to laugh, my tears dripping down my face. He pulled me close to him, and I could smell the faint scent of aftershave. Most of it was just cigarettes and whisky, which wasn't really appealing most of the time, but for some reason when it came to him, it was.

When I pulled away, I caught a glimpse of the time, and my heart missed a beat.

"Oh, fuck, I'll have to get back home." I swore, sitting upright suddenly, and attempting to pull my clothes on.

He helped me by passing them over. "I'll drive you, I don't want you risking getting the subway at this time of night." he added, his face a little less happy. Maybe he was missing me already.

I rolled my eyes. "You're so worried about me, but fine, I'll allow you to drive me. Drop me off where you did before so my dad doesn't see you."

He chuckled, pulling his clothes on also. "Maybe I should run in and meet him at one in the morning, and tell him I just screwed his daughter."

I paused to turn to him, giving him a very hard, cold glare. "You do that, and we're both dead meat, do you understand?"

He held up his hands. "Wow, I was joking. And I'm sure he's a better guy than you say he is."

"Victor, you're a killer, yes? Well he makes you look like Little Bo Peep in comparison. One day maybe I can introduce you two, but for now, I can't tell him who you are, or show you him, as I don't want you getting cut up." I sighed, coming over to drape my hands around his shoulders. "It's funny that you're both so alike, and yet you'd be the most at odds."

He scoffed, before kissing my forehead. "I think everyone in the world is against me, doll, now come on and I'll get you home before we get turned into mincemeat."

I beamed at him, and the two of us finished dressing and returned to the car.

"I never asked - what did Pacino tell you when you held him at gunpoint?" he asked, on the ride home.

"He told me that Happy was most likely working in a steel mill in Blüdhaven." I repeated.

He paused. "There's not many steel mills there, it's bound to be the Sionus steel mill. It got relocated from Gotham to Blüdhaven a few years back, but I don't think it's ever been used as an actual steel mill. It's full of criminals, most likely big men who can transport goods all day."

I chewed my lip. "I was focusing so much on taking out Happy that I didn't realise that we'd have to take out the other guys."

"I'll take you there next week, and I'll help you take out the guys, but it sure won't be easy."

"Next week? Aw I was thinking about tomorrow!" I sighed.

He shook his head. "You need a break to do school stuff, or whatever your week is made up of. Anyway I have some jobs booked that I can't pass up."

"Ah fine, next week then. Don't flake on me or I'll go by myself and get myself killed."

He scoffed, slowing the car down as we came to my usual stop. "You sure know how to blackmail me. Now have a good night, and don't tell your dad about me."

He leaned over and gave me a kiss, and I beamed back at him.

"Bye, Victor." I sent off, getting out of the car, and closing the door behind me.

It sped off, and I waved after him, but I still didn't drop my guard - that stupid Greybat might be around again. I passed through the same alley, with no sign of anyone else, and I sighed happily. Tonight was really shaping up to be a really good night, I had found myself a man, killed three people, and hadn't been stopped by a caped vigilante.

I finally found my way back to the hideout, and snuck in through the side entrance. The henchmen were playing cards in the lounge and so luckily I didn't come across any of them, as I crept quietly along the halls. Stupidly I had gotten to the hall of mirrors, thinking I was safe, before I heard someone behind me clearing their throat. I spun around to see the Joker there.

"Where the hell have you been to, hmm?" he asked, his tone dangerously low.

I simpered. "Hi, dad, I was erm... out with Violet." I replied, trying to think of my words.

"You better watch yourself with all this going out until the early hours of the morning. I don't appreciate disobedience." he warned.

"Sorry." I replied.

He neared me. "You smell like cigarettes, want to tell me why?" he asked.

I hesitated, I really couldn't tell him that I had visited the apartment of a man, he wouldn't hold back. "One of my other friends was smoking around me." I replied, my face unhumorous.

He exhaled heavily. "I don't want you coming back here smelling of smoke ever again, and don't test my generosity."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you smo-"

He cut me off with a growl. "Get to you room and shut up!"

I didn't give anymore cheek, I just turned on my heel and headed into my room, closing the door behind me. As if I was going to listen to him.

I laughed, what the hell was he gonna do about it?


	30. sionus steel mill

Happy was not what I expected him to be.

He was what people had told me - over six feet tall, heavy built with fat and muscle, with a simple black mask over his face. What I meant was that he was very much human, and vulnerable, as I witnessed as I watched him like a hawk from a high point inside the Sionus Steel Mill.

Victor sat beside me looking down his sniper rifle. We were both wearing black, and blended into the dark shadows the building created.

"Seven guys," he murmured, very quietly so only I could hear him. I counted them in my head, and indeed found seven guys, all down below, gathered around a table. "What's the plan, kid?"

I chewed my lip. "I-I don't know. Maybe I've made a mistake, I can't take all of these guys out..." I started, beginning to regret my decision quite quickly.

Victor put a hand on my arm. "Hey, don't worry, we don't have to do anything now. If nothing spooks them, then they'll probably still be here when we come back." he replied.

I nodded. "I'm sure nothing will-"

"Hey, what the hell was that?" one man cried, followed by the clunking of raised guns. I expected them to be pointing them at us, but instead they were pointing them in the other direction, where there was a swift movement in the shadows.

"Shit," Victor cursed, under his breath. "We've got company."

There was a shriek from another corner, as a man was grabbed by the ankles and hoisted upside down, leaving him dangling there, unconscious.

"The bats are here, spread out!" one man ordered, and the rest of them spread out into separate rooms, trying to find the perpetrators. Geez these guys really were idiots, spreading out into small groups would just make it easier for people to pick them off.

"Forget what I said about leaving, we're gonna do this now." I murmured, loading my gun.

"You catch Happy on his own and I'll take the rest of them out. Try not to get caught by a bat." he replied, aiming his sniper, and taking out a lone gang member. He fell to the ground in an instant.

"Roger." I answered, reaching over to kiss him on the cheek. "Go get 'em, tiger."

I climbed onto the ceiling railings, and snuck across them, trying not to put too much weight on them in case they broke. Happy was on his own near the loading containers, opening and checking the grates. Smugly, I dropped down quietly onto a surface a metre down, and then another one and another, until I reached the ground.

"Happy." I spoke, my voice serious.

He turned around, before looking me up at down, especially at the gun which was raised at him, loaded and ready to blown him to smithereens.

"I don't want you to talk, and I know you don't talk much anyway. I just wanna say, I really hope you enjoyed killing my mom. You might have lived to tomorrow if you hadn't have bashed her over the head with a mallet." I told him, glaring.

Happy looked back at me with calm eyes, and I couldn't deal with it. I fired a couple bullets into his neck and chest, making sure I hit a few arteries.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" I sighed, as he dropped the gun he had been holding in his jacket pocket, to instead clutch as his red pouring throat. As anyone in that situation would do, he stayed mostly quiet, the only noise being his gurgles. I watched the life slowly drain from his eyes, and it kind of felt... right.

"Watch out!"

I dodged, and a moment later a man felt forward with a knife in his hand, but completely missed me and fell to the floor. The voice had come from the woman that was now incapacitating him, the one and only pain in my ass Greybat.

She dealt with the man with the knife, before looking between me and the dead guy.

"Oh save me the speech." I sighed, blowing the smoke from my gun.

She narrowed her eyes through the mask. "I wasn't going to lecture you, I just wanted to warn you to get out of here as fast as you can." she told me, monotonely.

I hmphed. "And why is that?" I asked, leaning around Greybat and shooting a guy before she could react.

"Some guys that were known to work for the Joker have been spotted heading over here." she answered, adjusting her cuffs.

"And why should I care?"

"He was a homicidal maniac, so his guys have got to be up to no good. They'd hurt you."

"No they wouldn't, dummy."

"You're delusional."

"I know you're gonna get a kick out of this, but he's my dad. Though you probably already know that, and that's why you keep following me."

Her eyes widened. "His... daughter?"

"Yeah, we don't have time for this anyway. Just help me take out the rest of these guys, and I won't have Victor shoot you in the back of the head-"

As the words left my lips, there was the sound of raising guns from behind Greybat. She quickly whipped around, slamming the man to the ground and taking him out.

"Deal, I'll get to the high points."

"Last one is a rotten egg!" I called after her, as she jumped up onto the vantage points. I shook my head, and stormed into the other rooms in a heavy headed fashion, kicking open the door and shooting anything in it. Greybat did her fair part, taking the men out non-lethally, though I secretly shot them afterwards. Couldn't risk them coming after me later.

Not long after, all seven of the men were dead.

"You didn't have to kill them." Greybat sighed, as she joined my side. She was much taller and stronger looking than I was, and didn't slouch as much as I.

I laughed. "Sparing them is cool and all until they find out where you live and blow it up. I don't wear a mask like you, you know."

She fell silent.

"I feel like if we'd been under different circumstances we might have been friends. But sadly I'm not a nice person." I murmured, and Greybat glanced at me.

She might have replied, but we were interrupted by the cocking of a gun. It was Victor, who was still in his spot, and was aiming it at Greybat.

"Vic, don't, she's cool!" I informed him, and though he was a little unsure and cocked his eyebrow, he lowered the weapon.

"We all better be going." Greybat started, checking the surrounding, but still keeping an eye on Victor.

"Agreed. I'm melting in here, I didn't expect them to actually be using the furnaces." I replied, as the three of us climbed up and exited through the roof, the vigilante a little more seamless and smooth than Victor and I.

We stood out on the roof, crouching down and looking out. Without a word, Greybat got out her grapple gun and was about to fire it onto another building, before I stopped her.

"How come Nightwing didn't come to stop those guys? I thought Blüdhaven was his turf." I asked.

She lowered the grapple and turned to me. "He didn't know about the guys in this place being gang members." she replied, simply.

"Then how did you know?"

She hesitated. "I've been following your case for a while."

"You mean you followed me."

"In better terms, yes." she replied, and now took the time to fire the grapple and soar away into the night.

"You've got a confusing arsenal of friends." Victor commented, deconstructing his gun.

I scoffed. "You can say that again."

"What did she want?"

I tilted my head. "To warn me that Joker's men were seen heading this way. But I shrugged her off."

His face stiffened slightly. "Why didn't you say this earlier? Christ we have to get out of here."

I chewed my lip - I had forgotten that I hadn't told him about my dad yet. Right now didn't seem like the best time, and plus I didn't want my dad's men to see I was with a man, just in case they reported back to him, and I ended up in a body bag.

"We can sneak over to your car."

He nodded, starting toward the ladder that lead down to the ground. Quickly he slid down it, and I followed. Afterwards he grabbed my hand, and pulled me across the premises, stopping every now and then to peek around the corner of a building, and check the coast was clear. The car was in site with no one to be seen around it, and I scrunched up my face, but didn't say anything.

"She definitely said she saw some guys that used to work for the Joker." I murmured, as Victor drove away from the steel mill, with no cars following behind.

"I'm hoping she was mistaken. If she wasn't then they probably knew people were here, and they're just hiding around somewhere." he responded, in action mode still.

I was much more chill, as I laid back in the car seat and put a hand on his thigh. "Relax, it's never been the Joker's gang's way of doing things, being stealthy. If they were going to follow up, they'd be real obvious."

I checked my mirrors to see I hadn't jinxed the whole thing, and gladly I hadn't. In fact, the whole drive back into Gotham was just peachy keen, and soon Victor was relaxed just like me.

"So. You killed him." he murmured at last.

I smiled. "Yeah I did, it was like nothing. I guess I kind of forgot that he wasn't this big supercriminal or anything. He was just some gang banger, and so he bleeds like any other person." I hmphed in reply.

"Did you find anything out? Like who paid them to do the job, or who else we could go to?" he inquired.

I shook my head. "I didn't want to know, him telling me would just lead to more questions, and I don't think I'm ready to go searching for more. You saw how regretful I was in there before the Bat showed up, and the person who placed the hit is bound to have a lot more guys than just seven." I responded, drawing my knees to my face. "As far as I'm concerned, the guy who killed her and everyone involved is dead, so it's done."

Without looking at me, just focusing on the road, he put his free hand on mine. "I'm proud of you, kid. I never thought you'd have the gall in you to kill all those people just for your mom, but you proved me wrong."

I waved my hand. "Oh shush, I don't want any gushy stuff. I just wanna go back to your apartment without you crashing, that's all I ask."

He gave me a sly look. "Oh I can do that." The car seemed to race down the road even faster, as Victor's face lit up.

We pulled up outside of the apartment block, but I could barely make it to the steps before he seized me. The two of us began the game of kissing and grabbing outside of the complex door, and I closed my eyes happily.

"I'm going to fix you up something nice, like what's your favourite meal?" he asked, quietly as he pulled away, resting his forehead on mine.

I beamed. "It's sorta boring but I like spaghetti and meatballs." I replied, honestly.

He smiled. "I'll make that then, don't you worry." he responded, chuckling.

His forehead slipped away from mine as I heard a 'dunk' sound, like the slamming of an object against something. I opened my eyes to see him stammering backwards, holding his head, as a man I recognised held his gun butt first.

"Tiny?" I whimpered, confused as to why he was attacking my boyfriend. "W-what are you doing?"

Victor tried to lash at him, but another one of my dad's henchmen grabbed him and tied his hands behind his back, placing a bag over his head. He struggled, but a car pulled up, and they threw him in.

Tears collected in my eyes. "Stop it!" I cried, getting out my gun. "Let him go or I'll shoot!"

Tiny turned around slowly, with his hands up, which made me think I'd won. "Get in the car, or else your friend will really get messed up."

I narrowed my eyes, my hands tight on the gun, but finally I nodded and put it away. No sooner was I unarmed that Tiny grabbed my arms, and forced a bag over my head, before throwing me in the car, where I fell on an unconscious Victor. I hardly had time to whimper before I was being knocked over the head, and for the first time in a while, everything was growing dark.


	31. tied up

"Wakey wakey, lovebirds."

The voice was playful, but very cruel, and I opened my eyes slowly. Lights dazzled my eyes, and though my brain told my arm to raise to protect my eyes, it didn't. In fact all of my limbs seemed immobile, as I groggily tried to shift them. Once my eyes had adjusted to the bright light, I found myself stand in a wooden chair, and tied to it with tough rope.

Panic swept through my system, and I flung myself about to get loose, to no avail.

"Oh Marceline, nice of you to join the party." the voice added, and I recognised it as my dad's. I looked up at him and saw him standing there in his suit, leaning on a cane, completely comfortable with me being tied up. In fact, he may have been the one that did it.

"What's going on?" I asked, searching the room with my keen eyes. There were henchmen in the corner that were standing by for him. Useless.

He smirked. "Getting deja vu?" he asked, pushing his hair back.

Deja vu was the wrong word, it was more like panicked memories of the past. This entire situation was near identical to when his men had kidnapped me and brought me to Gotham, where I'd woken up tied to a chair. Well almost identical.

I heard stirring from behind me, and tilted my head back to see Victor tied to a chair, back to back with me.

"Victor, are you alright?" I asked, seeing blood around his mouth. They'd roughed him up quite a bit.

The red liquid trailed down his chin, and I so desperately wanted to wipe it away and clean him up.

"Marcie, you're awake? They didn't hurt you did they?" he questioned.

I chuckled. "No of course not, but don't worry-" I started, before I was cut off by a big yawn.

The Joker squatted down beside the chairs so both of us could see him just as well. "This is just so suffocatingly boring, sitting around and moping through all this lovey dovey stuff." he sighed.

I gave him a hard glare. "This is about Victor isn't it? You tied us up because I like him, shit that's stupid!" I snapped, before getting a backhand across the face. I wasn't expecting the collision, and so my face swept to the other side violently.

Victor furrowed his brow. "What do we have to do with the Joker?" he asked, turning his head, and I felt his dark hair tickle my neck.

Something resonated with my dad, and a grin grew on his face. "You didn't tell him, Marceline. How very naughty of you."

I scoffed. "As if I was going to tell a guy I was interested in that I was associated with you. He'd run for the hills."

Victor laughed. "You're associated with him?"

Sighing, I replied to him: "I don't want to talk about it." My head fell forward to look at the ground.

Dad grinned even harder, and crawled along to Victor. "She might not want to tell you but I will. That girl you've been touching up?" he started, grinning so hard his face might tear, pausing to deliver some aspect of tension. "That's my daughter."

It took a second for it to settle into Victor's mind, but it was clear when it did, as his eyes grew wide, and he choked out a laugh.

"Marcie, he's joking, right?"

I didn't really know what to say, and so for a minute I fell silent, my eyes free of tears, but there was still a twisting in my stomach. When I did try to speak, my throat was dry and it was very much an effort to respond. "I'm sorry. I-i wanted to tell you."

I couldn't see his face, but I heard the splutters as his jaw fell open, and he desperately tried to throw together a sentence.

The Joker chuckled darkly. "I'd think about your next words if I were you."

My lip curled. "Leave him alone, Dad, he really didn't know. You should be angry at me - I'm the one that went behind your back!" My purple eyes were wide and pleading, which usually worked in my favour, but it certainly didn't today.

"Marceline." he hissed, grabbing my hair and jerking my head at an uncomfortable angle. "I'll be on to you next, don't think just because I'm tormenting your boy toy, that you're going to get off Scot free."

I didn't reply, just narrowed my eyes, and he released my hair. My head lolled back to its natural position.

"Joker, listen, I really care about your daughter, and I haven't taken advantage of her. I've treated her nothing if not like a lady." Victor spoke, his voice a little shaky.

The other man tsked. "I don't think that's true. All you seemed to have been doing is toying with her." He retrieved a knife from his pocket and I heard the familiar click as the blade flicked out.

Victor eyed it cautiously. "Not to be cheesy, but I adore her. The only toying that took place was when she wanted it, sir." His voice sounded calmer now that there was a weapon on show, and I could only relate it to two lions carefully skulking around each other, ready to retaliate if the other pounced.

The Joker sat up, and gave a long, deep chuckle. "Is that so?" he started, his voice very dangerous, before there was a quick movement, and he stabbed the knife right into Victor's left hand.

The latter screeched in pain, and threw back a slurry of swearwords, some not even in English.

I ground my teeth. "Dad, why don't you come and stab me, if you're so big and powerful, huh? You wanna teach him a lesson, but I sure as hell need one, because if I get out of this chair I swear to you that I'll fucking kill you!" I snapped, flailing about as much as I could.

He hardly paid any attention to me, keeping it fixed on Victor as he twisted the knife in his hand. The screaming seemed to dull down, as the younger man became more accustomed to the pain, and now only resorted to heavy, wild breathing. Victor gave a grin, his imperfect teeth bared. "Is that it? I really expected more from the worst criminal Gotham has to offer." he breathed, smirking.

The other man's face tensed, and he stood up straight, before slamming Victor's head into the chair, hard. He then removed the knife and plunged it into his thigh.

Victor gave noises of discomfort, but soon returned to his smile. "Never go for the head - it makes all the pain after it seem so... insignificant." he joked, raising his brow. "Listen buddy, I screwed your little girl, why don't we get straight to business?"

The Joker gave a long laugh, and nodded. "You're right, maybe we should get down to business." he replied, turning away to face two burley goons. "Boys, take Marceline back to her bedroom and lock the door, would you? We need to have an all-guys sort of discussion."

My eyes widened, and the two commanded men came forth, quickly cutting the ropes tying me to the chair, however this still left my hands and my feet bound. One threw me over his shoulder, and though I protested, I felt weak, and I definitely wasn't the one in power here. I gazed back at Victor, who simply gave me a grin.

"I'll see you soon, doll." he called after me, and though a gave him a happy smile in return, I wasn't quite sure I believed him. Maybe this would be the last I ever saw of Victor Yaworsky, hitman extraordinaire.

I was carried back to my room, the goon carrying me walking in front, and the second walking behind, flashing his assault rifle just in case I got any ideas. Heh, maybe they'd heard what I did to Jackie, the henchmen that I'd strangled and shot to death during one of my psychotic episodes. That was a piece of cake.

With no care, I was dumped on my bedroom floor with a thud, and I cringed at the impact. They turned on their heels immediately, and slammed the door closed behind them, before I leapt up and threw my weight against the door. They'd drugged me while I was unconscious, I was sure, as my pounding on the door felt much lighter than usual, and much more pitiful.

A sob escaped my lips, and I collapsed with my back against the door, my crying echoing around the halls.

-

The next month was like a living nightmare.

I spent the whole of March locked in my room like a prisoner, my eyes constantly glossing over the pretty purple walls and stuffed toys. It didn't have bland padded walls and bars on the door, but it sure felt like a cell.

Living for weeks without personal contact was the hardest part for me, as they didn't even open the door to feed me anymore, after I'd tried to escape. Now they just passed the food on a tray under the door. Heh, I called it food, but it was just a mushy overcooked mess that had kept me alive this long.

Like what I imagined prison food was.

The henchman that fed me came by three times a day, always dead on the hour. I knew because I would stare up at my Hello Kitty analog clock, only breaking away when I heard those two firm knocks as he rapped on the solid door. I'd tried breaking it down, but it was if it had been designed to keep someone trapped in that room. I wonder if my dad had plotted it that way from the beginning.

Speaking of my father, I actually hadn't seen him in weeks. He'd stopped by the same day as I had been locked in here, to inform me that this was my punishment for misbehaving, and I wouldn't be getting out of here anytime soon. I'd begged him to stay but he'd left with a nonchalant chuckle.

Over the weeks following that, my mind had produced several people for me to talk to and stop myself going completely insane, however he wasn't one of them.

Today's special was oddly enough Emily Gordon. She sat opposite me on my plush double bed, playing with her long blonde hair, and acting rather airheaded.

"You have a nice place here, Daisy, thanks for inviting me over for a slumber party!" she giggled, extending a slim, tanned arm to play with my white hair. It was unkempt and now touched the bottom of my shoulder blades; I watched as it moved in her gentle hands.

"I preferred having Violet like I did yesterday." I murmured in reply, resting my head on my fist.

Emily laughed. "Well she's in your head, just tell her to get out here. Then we can paint nails and stuff." she responded, calmly.

I sighed. "I don't know how, for some reason might you know? You are me, after all."

Her smile flickered. "I would tell you, but you did use to me and steal information from my dad right under my nose."

I hmphed. "Ah yeah, sorry, I forgot about that. Forgive and forget like friends?"

Her face hardened. "Eat shit."

I pursed my mouth. "Well then." I sighed and turned away, staring at the lavender wall. I'd made a tally on the bottom, keeping tracking of the day and just how long I'd been in here. So far it was thirty-five days. If I got to forty, I could make a joke about forty days and forty nights, though I didn't want to press my luck. I had been keeping up my athletics but I was starting to look a bit scrawny.

Everything about me felt wrong, and I was sure it wasn't hormonal. I was weak mentally and physically, and when I looked in the mirror, it wasn't me that looked back. Especially with the constant voices in my head, I felt like I'd had a consciousness transplant.

"He's coming." one of the plethora of voices whispered, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight.

I felt a prickling down my spine, at a speed much faster than the footsteps I heard approaching my door, and I sat crosslegged on my bed, calm albeit not collected. Emily was nowhere to be seen, heh, lucky her.

The door was unlocked, and it slowly opened to reveal the Joker stood there in his signature suit, sans his purple blazer. His face was emotionless, just like mine, and he stopped just at the foot of my bed, not saying anything. I was aware that I looked something of a mess, and he studied this with what I hoped was concern and not delight.

"How are you holding up, kiddo?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

My lip wobbled slightly. "I wanna leave my room. I think I've gone mad." I responded, lightly.

He raised an eyebrow. "I see." he replied, and I noticed the way he hadn't seemed to have given an apology for putting me in this position in the first place. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to come see you today, I should just go..." he started, turning on his heel, about to leave.

My eyes widened and I pounced onto the end of my bed. "Wait! Please, let me go. I'll do anything!" I pleaded, exhaling lightly as I saw him stop in his tracks.

He turned back to me. "Anything?"

"Anything."

A grin lit up his face. "Well, as it happens, I was planning a heist for tomorrow, as it will be April 1st." He approached me, dangerously. "I want you to help me on it, and then afterwards I'll let you go and make your own way in the world."

I quickly nodded. "Of course, I'd be glad to help out." That was an utter lie, but I had to turn on the sugar if I wanted to get out of here. I would be out of this damn room, and feeling the air on my face.

He patted my head, which I flinched at. "Good girl, I'll have Ronald get you your costume to you tomorrow."

"Costume?"

"Ah yes, a surprise. It's something I came up with myself." He gave me another smile, before stepping away from me. "Now get some beauty sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you, dad, I love you!" I called after him, as he left and locked the door once again. Tomorrow I would be home free, and I'd never have to see that twisted man ever again.


	32. the heist

The Joker kept his word, and at five pm I was delivered my costume, along with my food, under the door.

As quickly as I could I seized it, and held the full length of it out in front of me. It was two articles of clothing - a white and black, short sleeved shirt, and black trousers, with braces to keep them up.

I undressed and slipped the new clothes on, sighing at the way they were a size too big for me, now that I had withered away over a month or so. The braces were the only thing keeping the trousers up, and I frowned at myself in the mirror. Black and white stripes, black overalls, I was of course supposed to be a mime. Fancy me having my very own clown alias. White silk gloves had fallen out of the bundle of clothes, and I picked them up from the floor, before pulling them on.

I felt very odd, as if I was getting ready for a Halloween party or something. Honestly Gotham was like a Halloween party all year around, so this wasn't surprising, but nevertheless. I just hoped that all I had to do was skip around and play up part of the gag, and then outrun the cops and get to safety, then I could pack up my stuff, and run away to auntie Ivy's.

But what said that he wouldn't lock me in my room again once I got back? What if I was in here for the rest of my little miserable life, however short that may be?

I would have thought a lot deeper, but I was interrupted by a knock on the door, which was unusual but I sat up straight.

"Come in?" I responded, smoothing down my outfit. The door opened a crack to check that I wasn't about to strike the person opening it, and then opened the full way to disclose a rather short, wide henchman, with a soft look on his face.

"Boss wants to know if you're ready." he stated, his voice gruff.

I nodded and he grunted, searching through his pockets until he removed a bag of what looked like stage makeup.

"I hope you won't have a problem, but I've been instructed to paint your face." he added, approaching me.

I chewed my lip. "Oh, okay. Go ahead, I don't bite." I replied, calmly. Truth was I did bite, but there was no point in attacking this guy that was just plain harmless.

He dipped a brush into white greasepaint, and began applying it over all of my features on my face. It felt heavy, and definitely wasn't something I'd put on by my lonesome, but before I knew it my whole face was a bright white, and the man was painting black lines around my eyes. I looked in the mirror afterward to see he had painted black diamonds over my eyes up to my eyebrows, which made my purple eyes look unnaturally bright.

He pulled away and put the products back in his pockets. "Now I'm to take you to head out." he murmured finally, and we both stood up.

For the first time in weeks, I was allowed to take a step outside of my door. We walked quietly - though I was just glad I didn't have a gun pointed at me - until we reached a black truck parked outside. The Joker was stood outside and gave me a large grin.

"Marceline, you look perfect." he chuckled, putting an arm around me, which caused me to tense up.

"Let's just get on with this." I murmured, giving him a thin smile.

He drew away, his smile faltering, and turned to open the back doors of the nearby truck. With a gesture of his hand, I followed his command and stepped into the back of the vehicle. I sat on one of the seats, and soon several goons were loading on and sitting opposite me, with my father sitting beside me.

The doors were slammed close, and the vehicle began to move.

After a unusually calm journey, the truck pulled haphazardly into a parking lot, one I worryingly saw was full of other cars. Family cars. We clambered out, and I smiled to finally feel the fresh air on my face as I found myself out in the open. If I was stupid I would have made a dash for it, but I knew that a couple of the henchman were told to shoot me if I did.

I would bode my time, and then I wouldn't have to worry about being shot in the back as I left.

Another truck pulled in beside us, and even more henchmen got out, all armed to the teeth. All of them seemed to have guns, except me, who wasn't trusted with one at this particular point in time, as I would probably shoot all of the people I was now surrounded by.

We began moving in formation through the entrance, the Joker and I in front. When one arrived at Amusement Mile, they would have to pay the entrance fee, given by the ticket handler, who looked only eighteen, if my guess was correct. However, his age didn't matter much to my father, who shot him through the glass before he could even properly respond. I tried not to think about his lifeless body too much as we continued inside the amusement park. Smells of candy floss filled the air, and bright lights filled every inch of the place, pointing in various directions to different rides and attractions.

We took a right and continued on toward the big top. The atmosphere was filled with the laughs and screams of excited people, riding the daunting rollercoasters or finally winning a stuffed toy for their loved one after several attempts at the bullseye. However, as soon as the Joker gang came into view, those screams turned to ones of pure terror and confusion, and the laughing turned to the strangled sounds of someone choking down the Joker's signature laughing gas. The Amusement Mile had gone from being almost abandoned to being reopened in wake of the Joker's disappearance, as he had always used it as a hideout or somewhere to cause mayhem. The place was back on its feet and better than ever, however in one minute, he seemed to have ripped that all down.

Purple and green laughing gas grenades were thrown by a couple of the henchmen, which erupted into bellows of smoke, and also acting as a guide as the men would shoot anyone that wasn't caught in the gas.

"Batsy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he called, laughing at the excitement of seeing his rival once again. It sent a shiver down my spine.

The people who had managed to get past being shot and gassed had gotten the right idea and had flocked out of the park, trampling over each other to get to their vehicles, and get to safety. Nevertheless, there were still many casualties, that lined the pathways of the rides and booths. Apart from distant crying, the place was very quiet, the only other sounds being the cheery circus tunes each stall played to draw people in. The group persisted on and entered the Big Top, which held a large arena and seating areas surrounding it, which now held no one, as they had heard the gunshots and got out with their lives.

The Joker shot the few people hiding under the seats, and then waved a gun for some of the others to search backstage. They did so, and this was followed by several screams and gunshots. I cringed at the sound of the bullets, but I knew there was nothing I could do, just sit by and wait patiently.

After hardly another moment, several figures dropped down from above. There were three, all dressed in Kevlar and spandex, with long, seemingly annoying capes floating behind them in the updraft. I recognised one of them as Greybat, one as Robin, and the third was in a bat costume, though certainly wasn't Batman. In fact Batman was nowhere to be seen, which really peeved off my dad.

"I thought he'd at least show up for me." he grumbled, his lip curling as he watched the fights ensue. The vigilantes were focusing their attacks on the many henchmen, and so we were able to move without being noticed, a mistake that they really shouldn't have made.

Men began to drop like flies as the array of Bat members flipped and landed punch after punch, and the Joker growled. He grabbed my arm tight, and dragged me out of the Big Top's back exit, which was thankfully unguarded. He took up a run and I struggled to keep up, albeit his hold on my arm never let up, so I just had to continue running, until we reached what looked like a large Haunted House attraction. I had little time to observe the appearance of the entrance before I was shoved through the door, and a gun was pressed to my back.

"Keep walking and I won't need to use this, Marceline." he murmured, and I gave a nod in reply, as the two of us began to walk together.

The corridors of the Haunted House were dimly lit, and fake cobwebs were strewn everywhere. Certain decorations on the walls would leapt out and make a goofy noise, and I was just glad that neither of us were easily scared, as I would have a bullet in my back.

Oddly, I reminisced how my mom always used to jump at these sort of things, and I would sit there, completely fine, laughing about how silly she was. She'd laugh too - her high tinkly sort of laugh, and ask my why she even went on these scary rides.

"Because you're the best!" I'd reply, and she'd laugh once again.

"Yep, that's it, I love ya, chunky monkey." she'd joke in reply.

"I love ya, too, Mrs scaredy-mom." I'd answer.

My face creased up, but I kept moving, still concerned for my life. If that guy hadn't killed her, I wondered where I would have been now, would my father have revealed himself to me? Would he be holding a gun to me the way he was now?

I came to a flight of stairs that read 'Staff Only' and with a nudge, I proceeded up the steps, treading lightly. They lead up to a door, which was locked, however my dad removed the gun from my back for a moment to shoulder bash the door open. It worked and we found ourselves on the roof, far higher up that I'd expected it to be.

We moved into the open and he seized me once again, this time by the shoulders, and pressed the weapon against my left temple.

"Batsyyy, are you there?" he sang, as I felt his fingers dig into my flesh. If he gripped any harder I was afraid I might bleed. "You better turn up and face me, or the girl gets it!"

There was silence but there was the light sound of wind brushing against fabric and a voice from the shadows spoke.

"Let her go." It was deep and gravelly as it commanded my father. The person it came from was well hidden, but I could see the vague outline of white eyes.

The Joker didn't release his hold on me, but I saw a large grin split his face, like a Cheshire cat. "Batman, its been forever! How have you been, old chap?" he asked, his voice playful.

Batman wasn't so cheerful, as he stepped into the light. The bat suit was something spectacular, and seeing it simply on the news didn't give it justice: it was a black sleek costume, with individual metal plates covering every inch of his muscles, and gleaming when he moved, like that of an old school knight. The classic bat emblem was carved into the metal on his chest, and pointed bat ears stood up tall on the top of his mask, which left his grey, unshaven chin on show.

"I know she's your daughter, Joker. Put her to one side and we can start on what I know you really came here for." he grunted, furrowing his brow and raising his fists.

The other man laughed, and shoved me harshly across the rooftop, and I had to steady myself to make sure I didn't roll off the edge. I kept to the floor, and tried to stay out of the fighting zone, as the two men went toe to toe.

I felt as if I was watching a news report or a very realistic movie as I watched Batman pummel the Joker, and the latter throw various gags and tricks back at him, such as the flower on his lapel which sprayed acid, which he now used on the Bat. Over seven years the Batman must have grown a little rusty, as this hit him square in the face, which though it didn't burn him, it didn't cause him to stagger backwards to stabilise himself. This brief letdown of his guard was ultimately his downfall, as the Clown stabbed him in the side, and sent a strong kick to his abdomen, resulting in him falling backwards.

The Joker leaned over to watch him fall, and instead of hearing a splat, I heard the fizzling and exploding of a generator, as something hard came into contact with it. I knew better than to assume the man was dead, however, he didn't make an appearance in the next minute, which left me all alone with him.

"I've still got it!" the Joker exclaimed, smoothing his hair back, and finally pulling away from the edge of the roof.

I was still in a heap on the floor from when the man had pushed me off of him, and I looked up at him warily as he now approached me. This man may be my father, but he had killed my boyfriend, locked me up for over a month, and had now threatened me with a gun. As far as he was concerned, I wanted nothing to do with him.

He held out a gloved hand to me.

"You held me hostage." I murmured, not taking it. "You pointed a gun at me."

He pulled it back in and squatted beside me. "Pumpkin, you have to understand - I had my reasons for doing that, I was never actually going to shoot you. I'd never hurt a hair on your pretty little head." he explained, stroking a thumb over my painted face, which was now being smudged and ruined by tears.

"You killed Victor." I continued.

"He had to be punished for twisting you around his finger, he really wasn't what he said he was, baby. I had your best intentions in heart." he added, before standing up straight. "Now what do you stay we call it a night, and I say a farewell to my dear little daughter?"

I gave him a soft smile, and this time when he offered his hand, I took it. "I'd love-" I started, as I was swung to my feet. Something quickly stopped me in my words. Something cold, and metallic, and plunged deep in my side. My heart thumped loud in my ears, I looked down to find the handle of a knife jutting out of my right oblique. The blade was almost completely inside of me.

"You are so gullible, Marceline, just like your mother." the Joker spoke, darkly, as he pulled the knife out sharply, and I collapsed on the ground. Hot blood was pouring from the wound... had to get help... immense pain in my...

"Really, I've had my so called free trial of being a father, though I'm sorry to say, it's not for me." he continued, not caring if I could hear him. "I should have saved myself the time and got Happy to kill you too."

My eyes grew wide, and though I was panting heavily and could barely cope with the pain, the cogs turned in my head. Happy, the man who killed my mother, was one of my father's men, of course, it had been dangling in front of me the whole time. What better mentor for a man named Happy, than the Clown Prince of Crime?

I didn't reply, but he expanded further. "I bet it's eating you up inside, knowing that though you killed the poor bastard that actually killed her, you'll never avenge her, because I'm still going to be kicking about, me, the true mastermind behind it all. Of course I didn't actually order her to be killed, but the plan was to kidnap you in your home and get you to Gotham, though Harley, being the persistent wench she was, wouldn't let my men get you without a fight. And we couldn't have my plans being ruined, could we?"

My breathing was rugged, and my attention couldn't pull away from that burning point in my side, which my hands were firmly grasping. "You sick fuck." I growled, though this hurt even more.

He gave me a sickeningly large grin. "That's my middle name, pumpkin."

My eyes narrowed, and with every ounce of life that was left in my body, I pounced on him, catching him off guard and knocking him backwards. With a hooting laugh he slipped off of the edge of the roof, and just like Batman, he hurtled on the ground below. The laughter didn't even seem to cease and so I lay back, blood continuing to puddle in my hands, now at an accelerated pace. Nothing but cackling filled my ears, as my head lolled backwards.

For what I was sure was the last time, I lost consciousness.


	33. heaven?

Bright lights danced above my head. They encouraged me on, though I was weak, and all I could do was watch as they teased me and hung just outside of my grasp. I tried to raise a hand to reach out to them, but I couldn't lift it more than an inch, and it flopped back down by my side.

"Marcie." a voice murmured my name, though my eyes couldn't focus on who. Everything outside of the lights was a blur, even myself, I noticed, as I looked down at my body.

I was laid out, my back supported so I was sat up just slightly, and all I could see was a white sheet. Was I dead? Was this the morgue and I was a dead body that had just been covered over? Dazedly I tried to wiggle my toes, and saw them moved from under the white sheet. Maybe I was a zombie, that would be killer!

"Marceline, can you hear me?" the voice repeated, and I flopped my head to the side lethargically. My eyes kept going in and out of focus, but when they finally honed on the person, I saw a familiar face looking back at me.

"Victor." I murmured, my speech loud and jumbled in my ears. He was sat beside me, in shabby yet smart clothes, and with shorter hair than when I'd seen him last, which showed off a hoop in his cartilage that I had never noticed before. His pale face was littered with bruises and cuts, most of which were stitched up. They were beginning to turn into white scars, which I was sure wouldn't go anytime soon.

"Oh Marcie, I'm so glad you're awake!" he simpered, smiling and resisting the urge to jump on me and give me one hell of a hug.

I could barely hold my eyes open, and so he fell out of focus again. "Am I in heaven? I thought it'd be better than this." I slurred, scrunching up my face.

He chuckled. "Nah, toots, you're just in Mercy Hospital, and I'm glad to say that you're not dead." he responded, his eyes a little wet.

My heart skipped a beat, and I looked down at my arms to observe the many tubes in my arms, one that lead to an IV drip full of blood. There was a beeping in the room which I'd assumed was just a pounding headache, but I now tied it to being a heart beat monitor. I watched the line go up and down, and I sighed.

"I thought he'd killed you, y'know. I was gonna have a funeral for you and everything." I added, gazing back at Victor.

He gave me a soft smile. "I don't really know the joke in it, but him and his men just kicked to hell out of me, and dumped me outside of my apartment barely alive. Fuck knows if they expected me to die, but one of my neighbours is a doctor and is probably the reason I'm still here today. But a month went by with no word from you, and Christ I was so worried, but I couldn't get the police to help because they all thought the Joker was still dead, and that I was on drugs or something." he explained. "But I've found you now, and I'm never gonna let you go."

I giggled weakly, and he grinned, putting a hand on my face.

"Speaking of drugs, how many have they got me on? I feel like crap." I murmured, resting my head on the pillow as he smoothed his thumb over my brow.

"You're on morphine for the pain, which will be causing your grogginess, along with a handful of other painkillers, though the main thing is probably wooziness from your lack of blood. You lost a lot of blood from the stab wound in your side, so that IV there is putting back into your system." he replied, not tearing his eyes away from me for even a second.

I grimaced, moving a lethargic hand to my side, which responded with a bound of screeching pain, and I felt my heartbeat hard through my fingertips. "Dumbass wound, I almost forgot about that."

He moved my hand back to where it was before and put me back in a comfortable position. "Best thing is not to touch it, you need your rest. It's all up from here, baby."

I gave him a smile, but I tilted my head away from him when I heard a vague noise. The person was in the dark, but stood up and moved so I could better see them; she was tall, blonde, and had a concerned look on her face.

"Emily Gordon, fancy you coming to see me." I chuckled, looking at her through my lashes. "I didn't think the Commissioner's little girl would want anything to do with the Joker's daughter."

Her face wasn't so happy. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, if you think I take any joy in it, then I don't." she replied, not wanting to meet my eyes. "I'm just glad to see you're alright."

I raised an eyebrow, a minor task that was surprisingly difficult. "Why should you be sorry? I'm the one that screwed you over and stole stuff from your dad."

She shrugged. "My other friends have done worse. And I'm sorry I put a tracking device on you."

My eyes widened. "You did what? Is that why-" I started, before something finally clicked with me. The whole accepting me onto the cheerleading squad had been a set up, to get me in a position where she could put a tracker on me inconspicuously. She knew I wasn't actually Daisy Simpson, but still played along. "You're working for the Bat."

She smirked. "I see myself as a rather independent member, but yes if you put it in layman's terms, I am working for Batman. Just please don't call me Batgirl again."

I scoffed, and a goofy grin lit up my face. "That's brilliant, the head cheerleader is the vigilante that's been stalking me!"

Her face grew serious. "Tell anyone and I'll make sure you and your friends have a very extensive criminal record that will put you away for at least one life sentence."

I gave a surprised spluttering laugh. "Jesus, calm down, where's the fun in telling people? It's not like you bullied me in school and I have a reason for threatening you."

She threw back a thin smile. "Thanks, I really appreciate it." A glance down at her watch and her face lightened up again. "I'm really glad you're okay, though I need to be getting back, my dad would freak if he knew I was out this late." With a wave she hastily dashed out of the door, and left Victor and I together again.

"How late is it?" I asked him, lolling my head over to his side again.

He checked his watch, the face of which had been smashed and was barely readable. "Around three am. Visiting hours are over but I insisted to be with you when you woke up."

I gave him a smile. "Thanks, I'm glad I didn't wake up alone or I'd be so much more confused." My beam faltered just a tad. "How is everyone? I hadn't seen anybody in what feels like forever."

He pushed my white hair back from my face. "Everybody is great and just missing you. Violet has set up another bed so you can stay at her house, and I shouldn't really spoil the surprise, but Ivy and her are planning something special for when you get out of hospital. I'm sure you'll love it."

My eyes lit up, but soon grew dark once again. "And... my father?"

He gave a long pause. Air was pushed from his nose as he exhaled deeply, and put his hand on mine. "He's unfortunately... still alive. At this point I don't think anything can kill him, he's like a cockroach, but that fall did some damage to him. Rumour is his spine is splintered, and he might not ever walk again."

I creased my brow - I really wasn't sure how to feel. Sure I was angry at him, angry in such imaginably large quantities that I was sure I might burst, but was scared than one day I might turn into him. Be so screwed up that I kill Victor, my friends, or even my own child. Maybe the only way I could actually be rid of him was by ending my own life.

I was cut off by a hand on my cheek. "It's okay, Marcie, I'm gonna protect you from everything that wants to harm you in this world. Especially him."

The warmth from his skin spread through me and collected in my eyes where tears began to rise and splatter on the bed sheets. I may not have my dear old ma anymore, and my father betrayed me, but I still had my people. After all this time I was looking for a family, I had found it in my friends: Luka, Violet, Emily even, and of course Victor. They were my net in the dark hole that was Gotham, and I was finally content with that.


	34. epilogue

Arkham Asylum

Christmas morning

six years later

Melodic whistles filled the quiet atmosphere, as a certain green haired man pressed his lips together. At least it used to be all green, now it was splashes of white and light green that had receded quite far back on his head. The man resembled a rather crude drawing of himself twenty years ago.

He wasn't quiet sure why he was here. No one but doctors came to visit him, coming to probe him and try and get a lead for their new book, however they always came during the day in the set visiting hours. If his brain was correct, it was currently one am.

Nevertheless he kept up his tune, which he was very aware that was driving the guards keeping an eye on him simply mad. That was always the goal at the end of the day. Asking them what was going on hadn't bore any fruit, and so he let his eyes roam the dimly lit room, looking for answers. Violence may have proved useful for getting such information, but he was restrained in a straight jacket, and he still didn't have the use of his legs. Even he wasn't that much of a miracle worker.

After far too long counting the insect scuttling around the four walls, the metal door clicked, and it was opened to present a slim woman, dressed in a smart charcoal dress suit and black high heels. Her face was no nonsense, and the guard on the door stepped aside to let her pass into the room. The woman's voice was soft and had a glint of a Gotham accent as she thanked him, and approached the metal table that the criminal was sat at, which was firmly screwed into the floor, along with the metal seat which she now perched on.

One light hanging above them illuminated her face, and his face split up with a grin.

"Mar-cel-leeen." he purred, looking over her white features. "My little girl came down here to see me after all these years."

Her face didn't change or react to anything he said; she kept her cool well. "I haven't got much time, but this won't take very long at all. All I came here to do is gloat, and honestly, seeing you still rotting in that wheelchair has gotten my Christmas off to a great start already."

His face stiffened. "That's your handiwork, I do remember. But don't think it'll stop me - if Barbara Gordon made a full recovery, then so will I." he retorted.

She smiled, her ruby red lips crinkling up at the sides. "I'd like to see you try. But best wishes on your recovery, old man." she chuckled, lacing her hands together. "Well, aren't you going to ask me how my life is going since we saw each other last?"

"No. Frankly my dear I don't give two-" he started, but she smugly cut him off.

"I got married to Victor, that lovely guy you tried to have killed, for one." she listed, holding up her slender hand to reveal a ring. "Oh dad I'm sure you'd hate him, he hasn't tried to kill me even once, which is a lot more than you can say."

The man grunted, refusing to give her the acknowledgement of his reply.

"Oh and you might be interested to know, but you're a grandad." she added, and his eye lit up just slightly. She supposed even homicidal maniacs liked the idea of having grandchildren. "Not that you'll ever see him, but Archie is a lovely little boy, only around eight months, but still a little genius." The woman smiled to herself. "Do you know what the funniest part is?"

He narrowed his brow. "What?" he asked, through ground teeth, as though he had grown past the point of withstanding her presence.

"He looks absolutely nothing like you. He's a perfectly normal little boy, who is going to have a perfectly normal upbringing, who thinks his grandparents are dead. Because they are, you're so very dead to me."

"Why did you come here today then?" His voice was low and commanding, but he had no control over her.

"Oh, I nearly forgot - to give you your Christmas present." She searched through her bag and put a wrapped present on the table. Aware that his hands were bound, she tore off the gift wrap for him, until a shoebox was left.

He paused. "What is it?" There was a glimmer that it was a weapon, and that this dreadfully annoying woman had come to break him out of here.

She gave him a grin, and removed the lid. Inside sat a clean, and pristine pair of shoes. Soccer shoes in particular.

She laughed, a light tinkly laugh that was beginning to sound like her mother's. "I thought you might like them for when you make your full recovery."

If he hadn't been restrained so well, the man would have strangled the life out of her and snapped her pretty little neck. His lip curled. "You're not funny, you know."

She gave him a wide smile and stood up. "Oh I know, dad." With a few steps she walked toward the door, and the guard opened it for her, though she turned back just once more.

With a smile she added: "Merry Christmas, clown."


End file.
